SANTA CRUZ. 287 
‘His animal could be seen, and all followed him. Peals 
of the most terrific thunder burst upon us, leaving 
scarcely an interval of repose. Next came violent 
gusts of wind, accompanied by clouds of sand and dust, 
reminding one of the African simoom. The wind was 
from the south, and brought the sand directly in our 
faces. To avoid it was impossible. Not a tree was to 
be seen; no ravine appeared where we could shelter 
ourselves ; and the nearest mountain was yet twenty 
miles off.. Lastly came torrents of rain, and this: ter- 
rific storm was at its height. 
Slowly we journeyed on, drenched to the skin, not- 
withstanding our overcoats and India rubber gar- 
ments. The march before us must be made, and the 
sooner the “‘ Picacho” was reached the better. To stop, 
was to endanger our animals; for no pools had yet 
been seen where the rain had accumulated, so that we 
had neither water nor grass to give them. At mid- 
night, in the midst of this extreme darkness and rain, 
Where one would about as soon expect to meeta human 
being as in the middle of the broad ocean, we were 
suddenly brought to a stand by the sound of voices! 
“Who comes there? Quien vive?” were quickly 
cried by a dozen voices in English and Spanish, andas — 
quickly answered, “Friends! Amigos! -Who are 
you? Where are you from? De donde viene?” etc., 
and ina moment we were surrounded by horsemen, 
pack-mules, and the accompaniments of a large party. 
Were they Indians, or Mexicans, or Americans—friends 
or enemies, ran through my mind, till the sound of 
English voices dissipated my apprehensions. It proved 
lobe a party of between forty and fifty Americans, 
