We Got To Dread The Steam So; It
Was The Climax Of The Long Hot Day And Was Peculiar To That Part
Of The River.
The paraphernalia by the side of our cots at night
consisted of a pitcher of cold tea, a lantern, matches, a
revolver, and a shotgun.
Enormous yellow cats, which lived in and
around the freight-house, darted to and fro inside and outside
the house, along the ceiling-beams, emitting loud cries, and that
alone was enough to prevent sleep. In the old part of the house,
some of the partitions did not run up to the roof, but were left
open (for ventilation, I suppose), thus making a fine play-ground
for cats and rats, which darted along, squeaking, meowing and
clattering all the night through. An uncanny feeling of
insecurity was ever with me. What with the accumulated effect of
the day's heat, what with the thieving Indians, the sand-storms
and the cats, our nights by no means gave us the refreshment
needed by our worn-out systems. By the latter part of the summer,
I was so exhausted by the heat and the various difficulties of
living, that I had become a mere shadow of my former self.
Men and children seem to thrive in those climates, but it is
death to women, as I had often heard.
It was in the late summer that the boat arrived one day bringing
a large number of staff officers and their wives, head clerks,
and "general service" men for Fort Whipple.
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