Our letters
were from two to three weeks old. The eastern mail came via Santa
Fe to the terminus of the railroad, and then by stage; for in
1874, the railroads did not extend very far into the Southwest.
At a certain point on the old New Mexico road, our man met the
San Carlos carrier, and received the mail for Apache.
"I do not understand," I said, "how any soldier can be found to
take such a dangerous detail."
"Why so?" said Jack. "They like it."
"I should think that when they got into those canons and narrow
defiles, they would think of the horrible fate of their
predecessor," said I.
"Perhaps they do," he answered; "but a soldier is always glad to
get a detail that gives him a change from the routine of post
life."
I was getting to learn about the indomitable pluck of our
soldiers. They did not seem to be afraid of anything. At Camp
Apache my opinion of the American soldier was formed, and it has
never changed. In the long march across the Territory, they had
cared for my wants and performed uncomplainingly for me services
usually rendered by women. Those were before the days of lineal
promotion.
