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. They had all been
stationed in Washington for a number of years, having had what is
known in the army as "gilt-edged" details. I threw a linen towel
over my head, and went to the boat to call on them, and,
remembering my voyage from San Francisco the year before,
prepared to sympathize with them. But they had met their fate
with resignation; knowing they should find a good climate and a
pleasant post up in the mountains, and as they had no young
children with them, they were disposed to make merry over their
discomforts.
We asked them to come to our quarters for supper, and to come
early, as any place was cooler than the boat, lying down there in
the melting sun, and nothing to look upon but those hot
zinc-covered decks or the ragged river banks, with their
uninviting huts scattered along the edge.
The surroundings somehow did not fit these people. Now Mrs.
Montgomery at Camp Apache seemed to have adapted herself to the
rude setting of a log cabin in the mountains, but these were
Staff people and they had enjoyed for years the civilized side of
army life; now they were determined to rough it, but they did not
know how to begin.
The beautiful wife of the Adjutant-General was mourning over some
freckles which had come to adorn her dazzling complexion, and she
had put on a large hat with a veil.
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