By little pegs of wood, and
over this rough carpet we have three rugs we brought with us. At the
small window are turkey-red curtains that make very good shades when
let down at night. There are warm army blankets on the camp bed, and a
folded red squaw blanket on the trunk. The stove is as bright and
shining as the strong arm of a soldier could make it, and on it is a
little brass teakettle singing merrily.
Altogether the little place looks clean and cheerful, quite unlike the
"hole" we came to. Farrar has attended to his part in the kitchen
also, and things look neat and orderly there. A wall tent has been
pitched just outside our door that gives us a large storeroom and at
the same time screens us from the men's quarters that are along one
side of the sandbag walls.
On the side farthest from us the mules and horses are stabled, but one
would never know that an animal was near if those big-headed mules did
not occasionally raise their voices in brays that sound like old
squeaky pumps. When it is pleasant they are all picketed out.
At the first coming of the blizzard the sentry was ordered from the
parapet, and is still off, and I am positive that unless one goes on
soon at night I shall be wholly deaf, because I strain my ears the
whole night through listening for Indians.
