Wretched, forbidding-looking places they were!
Never a tree or a bush to give shade, never a sign of comfort or
home.
Our tents were pitched near Packwood's, out in the broiling sun.
They were like ovens; there was no shade, no coolness anywhere;
we would have gladly slept, after the day's march, but instead we
sat broiling in the ambulances, and waited for the long afternoon
to wear away.
The next day dragged along in the same manner; the command
marching bravely along through dust and heat and thirst, as
Kipling's soldier sings:
"With its best foot first
And the road
a-sliding past,
An' every bloomin' campin'-ground
Exactly like the last".
Beal's Springs did not differ from the other ranch, except that
possibly it was even more desolate. But a German lived there, who
must have had some knowledge of cooking, for I remember that we
bought a peach pie from him and ate it with a relish. I remember,
too, that we gave him a good silver dollar for it.
The only other incident of that day's march was the suicide of
Major Worth's pet dog "Pete." Having exhausted his ability to
endure, this beautiful red setter fixed his eye upon a distant
range of mountains, and ran without turning, or heeding any call,
straight as the crow flies, towards them and death. We never saw
him again; a ranchman told us he had known of several other
instances where a well-bred dog had given up in this manner, and
attempted to run for the hills. We had a large greyhound with us,
but he did not desert.
Major Worth was much affected by the loss of his dog, and did not
join us at supper that night. We kept a nice fat quail for him,
however, and at about nine o'clock, when all was still and dark,
Jack entered the Major's tent and said: "Come now, Major, my wife
has sent you this nice quail; don't give up so about Pete, you
know."
The Major lay upon his camp-bed, with his face turned to the wall
of his tent; he gave a deep sigh, rolled himself over and said:
"Well, put it on the table, and light the candle; I'll try to eat
it. Thank your wife for me."
So the Lieutenant made a light, and lo! and behold, the plate was
there, but the quail was gone! In the darkness, our great kangaroo
hound had stolen noiselessly upon his master's heels, and quietly
removed the bird. The two officers were dumbfounded. Major Worth
said: "D - n my luck;" and turned his face again to the wall of
his tent.
Now Major Worth was just the dearest and gentlest sort of a man,
but he had been born and brought up in the old army, and everyone
knows that times and customs were different then.
Men drank more and swore a good deal, and while I do not wish my
story to seem profane, yet I would not describe army life or the
officers as I knew them, if I did not allow the latter to use an
occasional strong expression.
The incident, however, served to cheer up the Major, though he
continued to deplore the loss of his beautiful dog.
For the next two days our route lay over the dreariest and most
desolate country. It was not only dreary, it was positively
hostile in its attitude towards every living thing except snakes,
centipedes and spiders. They seemed to flourish in those
surroundings.
Sometimes either Major Worth or Jack would come and drive along a
few miles in the ambulance with me to cheer me up, and they
allowed me to abuse the country to my heart's content. It seemed
to do me much good. The desert was new to me then. I had not read
Pierre Loti's wonderful book, "Le Desert," and I did not see much
to admire in the desolate waste lands through which we were
travelling. I did not dream of the power of the desert, nor that
I should ever long to see it again. But as I write, the longing
possesses me, and the pictures then indelibly printed upon my
mind, long forgotten amidst the scenes and events of half a
lifetime, unfold themselves like a panorama before my vision and
call me to come back, to look upon them once more.
CHAPTER VIII
LEARNING HOW TO SOLDIER
"The grasses failed, and then a mass Of dry red cactus ruled the
land: The sun rose right above and fell, As falling molten from
the skies, And no winged thing was seen to pass." Joaquin Miller.
We made fourteen miles the next day, and went into camp at a
place called Freeze-wash, near some old silver mines. A bare and
lonesome spot, where there was only sand to be seen, and some
black, burnt-looking rocks. From under these rocks, crept great
tarantulas, not forgetting lizards, snakes, and not forgetting
the scorpion, which ran along with its tail turned up ready to
sting anything that came in its way. The place furnished good
water, however, and that was now the most important thing.
The next day's march was a long one. The guides said:
"Twenty-eight miles to Willow Grove Springs."
The command halted ten minutes every hour for rest, but the sun
poured down upon us, and I was glad to stay in the ambulance. It
was at these times that my thoughts turned back to the East and
to the blue sea and the green fields of God's country.
