"What!" I said, "the lonely man down there on the river - the
prisoner of Chillon - the silent one? Well, they are going to
relieve him, of course?"
"Why, yes," said Jack, falteringly, "if they can get anyone to
take his place."
"Can't they order some one?" I inquired.
"Of course they can," he replied, and then, turning towards the
window, he ventured: "The fact is Martha, I've been offered it,
and am thinking it over." (The real truth was, that he had
applied for it, thinking it possessed great advantages over Camp
MacDowell. )
"What! do I hear aright? Have your senses left you? Are you
crazy? Are you going to take me to that awful place? Why, Jack, I
should die there!"
"Now, Martha, be reasonable; listen to me, and if you really
decide against it, I'll throw up the detail. But don't you see,
we shall be right on the river, the boat comes up every fortnight
or so, you can jump aboard and go up to San Francisco." (Oh, how
alluring that sounded to my ears!) "Why, it's no trouble to get
out of Arizona from Ehrenberg. Then, too, I shall be independent,
and can do just as I like, and when I like," et caetera, et
caetera. "Oh, you'll be making the greatest mistake, if you
decide against it. As for MacDowell, it's a hell of a place, down
there in the South; and you never will be able to go back East
with the baby, if we once get settled down there. Why, it's a
good fifteen days from the river."
And so he piled up the arguments in favor of Ehrenberg, saying
finally, "You need not stop a day there. If the boat happens to
be up, you can jump right aboard and start at once down river."
All the discomforts of the voyage on the "Newbern," and the
memory of those long days spent on the river steamer in August
had paled before my recent experiences. I flew, in imagination,
to the deck of the "Gila," and to good Captain Mellon, who would
take me and my child out of that wretched Territory.
"Yes, yes, let us go then," I cried; for here came in my
inexperience. I thought I was choosing the lesser evil, and I
knew that Jack believed it to be so, and also that he had set his
heart upon Ehrenberg, for reasons known only to the understanding
of a military man.
So it was decided to take the Ehrenberg detail.
CHAPTER XVII
THE COLORADO DESERT
Some serpents slid from out the grass That grew in tufts by
shattered stone, Then hid below some broken mass Of ruins older
than the East, That Time had eaten, as a bone Is eaten by some
savage beast.
