"Oh! Jack!" I cried, "and is that Ehrenberg? Who on earth gave
such a name to the wretched place?"
"Oh, some old German prospector, I suppose; but never mind, the
place is all right enough. Come! Hurry up! We are going to stop
here and land freight. There is an officer stationed here. See
those low white walls? That is where he lives. Captain Bernard of
the Fifth Cavalry. It's quite a place; come out and see it."
But I did not go ashore. Of all dreary, miserable-looking
settlements that one could possibly imagine, that was the worst.
An unfriendly, dirty, and Heaven-forsaken place, inhabited by a
poor class of Mexicans and half-breeds. It was, however, an
important shipping station for freight which was to be sent
overland to the interior, and there was always one army officer
stationed there.
Captain Bernard came on board to see us. I did not ask him how he
liked his station; it seemed to me too satirical; like asking the
Prisoner of Chillon, for instance, how he liked his dungeon.
I looked over towards those low white walls, which enclosed the
Government corral and the habitation of this officer, and thanked
my stars that no such dreadful detail had come to my husband.
