Through Arizona to San Diego 167 



and truly here was a scene of desolation. Broken 

 wagons, dead shrivelled-up cattle, horses and mules 

 as well, lay baking in the sun, around the dried-up 

 wells that had been opened, in the hopes of getting 

 water. Not a blade of grass or green thing of any 

 kind relieved the monotony of the parched, ash- 

 colored earth, and the most melancholy scene pre- 

 sented itself that I have seen since I left the Rio 

 Grande. 



We turned to our road at twelve o'clock, the 

 sun blazing down on us, and expecting to go nine 

 miles more without water; I feared the mules 

 would never do it, but about two miles further on, 

 we came to good water, and after a short rest on 

 we went for seven more, when we found shade, 

 and a good supper, for the Sergeant's guard here 

 had killed a wild cow, and made us a present of 

 part of it. The thirty-six miles had been made, 

 and the worst part of the road was past. 



[No date.'] Here we stayed one day to wait for 

 some of our party, who had waited hoping to pur- 

 chase provisions; they were sorely jaded, but had 

 not lost a mule when they re-joined us. Leaving 

 them to rest, I went to Col. Collins' camp for fifty 

 pounds of biscuit and some rice, and we then took 

 the way west, for the next water-hole, our horses 

 loaded with grass ; which as it had been good, we 

 had taken the precaution to secure before we 

 started at four o'clock. 



