In the morning the camp was all astir for an early move. We had
no time to look back: we were starting for a long day's march,
across the "divide," and into Camp Verde.
But we soon found that the road (if road it could be called) was
worse than any we had encountered. The ambulance was pitched and
jerked from rock to rock and we were thumped against the iron
framework in a most dangerous manner. So we got out and picked
our way over the great sharp boulders.
The Alsatian soldier carried the baby, who lay securely in the
pappoose cradle.
One of the cavalry escort suggested my taking his horse, but I
did not feel strong enough to think of mounting a horse, so great
was my discouragement and so exhausted was my vitality. Oh! if
girls only knew about these things I thought! For just a little
knowledge of the care of an infant and its needs, its nourishment
and its habits, might have saved both mother and child from such
utter collapse.
Little by little we gave up hope of reaching Verde that day. At
four o'clock we crossed the "divide,"and clattered down a road so
near the edge of a precipice that I was frightened beyond
everything: my senses nearly left me. Down and around, this way
and that, near the edge, then back again, swaying, swerving,
pitching, the gravel clattering over the precipice, the six mules
trotting their fastest, we reached the bottom and the driver
pulled up his team. "Beaver Springs!" said he, impressively,
loosening up the brakes.
As Jack lifted me out of the ambulance, I said: "Why didn't you
tell me?" pointing back to the steep road. "Oh," said he, "I
thought it was better for you not to know; people get scared
about such things, when they know about them before hand."
"But," I remarked, "such a break-neck pace!" Then, to the
driver, "Smith, how could you drive down that place at such a
rate and frighten me so?"
"Had to, ma'am, or we'd a'gone over the edge."
I had been brought up in a flat country down near the sea, and I
did not know the dangers of mountain travelling, nor the
difficulties attending the piloting of a six-mule team down a
road like that. >From this time on, however, Smith rose in my
estimation. I seemed also to be realizing that the Southwest was
a great country and that there was much to learn about. Life out
there was beginning to interest me.
Camp Verde lay sixteen miles farther on; no one knew if the road
were good or bad.
