Cruelly Tired, Here
We Were, We Two Women, Compelled To Sit On Hard Boxes Or The Edge
Of A Bed, To Quiet Our Poor Babies, All Through That Night, At
That Old Sheep-Ranch.
Like the wretched emigrant, differing only
from her inasmuch as she, never having known comfort perhaps,
cannot realize her misery.
The two Lieutenants slipped on their blouses, and sat looking
helplessly at us, waging war on the cats at intervals. And so the
dawn found us, our nerves at a tension, and our strength gone - a
poor preparation for the trying day which was to follow.
We were able to buy a couple of sheep there, to take with us for
supplies, and some antelope meat. We could not indulge, in
foolish scruples, but I tried not to look when they tied the live
sheep and threw them into one of the wagons.
Quite early in the day, we met a man who said he had been fired
upon by some Indians at Sanford's Pass. We thought perhaps he had
been scared by some stray shot, and we did not pay much attention
to his story.
Soon after, however, we passed a sort of old adobe ruin, out of
which crept two bare-headed Mexicans, so badly frightened that
their dark faces were pallid; their hair seemed standing on end,
and they looked stark mad with fear. They talked wildly to the
guide, and gesticulated, pointing in the direction of the Pass.
They had been fired at, and their ponies taken by some roving
Apaches.
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