82 
CHRISTMAS EYE.—SAN FRANCISCO SPRINGS. 
road which the wagons made was very hard and good. If there were no snow, a train follow¬ 
ing could make the march from Colorado Chiquito, twenty-five miles, in one day, with ease. 
December 24 —Camp 89.—Having a sheltered spot on the edge of a forest, with plenty of 
water and grass, it was deemed necessary for the welfare of the mules, upon which we are so 
dependent, to rest till Monday. The weather in the morning was very cold, the thermometer 
at sunrise reading 3°.5 helow zero. Later in the day the sun’s rays were warm and powerful, 
melting the snow upon the southern slopes. Several of the party went out to hunt turkeys and 
other game, thinking to have a feast, hut were quite unsuccessful. They found plenty of tracks 
in the snow. One young hunter got upon the trail of a hear; hut the foot-prints were so enor¬ 
mous that he preferred to return to camp. 
Christmas eve has been celebrated with considerable eclat. The fireworks were decidedly 
magnificent. Tall, isolated pines surrounding camp were set on fire. The flames leaped to 
the tree-tops, and then, dying away, sent up innumerable brilliant sparks. An Indian dance, 
by some ci-devant Navajo prisoners, was succeeded by songs from the teamsters, and a pastoral 
enacted by the Mexicans, after their usual custom at this festival. Leroux’s servant, a tamed 
Crow Indian, and a herder, then performed a duet improvisatore, in which they took the liberty 
of saying what they pleased of the company present—an amusement common in New Mexico and 
California, where this troubadour singing is much in vogue at fandangoes. These last entertain¬ 
ments are interesting to a stranger from their singularity. The plaintive tones of the singers, 
and the strange simplicity of the people, lead one’s fancy hack to the middle ages. In this state 
of society, so free from ambition for wealth or power, where the realities of life are in a great 
measure subject to the ideal, there is a tinge of romance that would well repay the researches of 
a literary explorer. Their impromptu ballads alone would make an interesting collection. 
December 25 —Camp 89.—Christmas dawned upon us with the thermometer nearly at zero; 
hut the day has been pleasant, and the snow is rapidly disappearing. Nineteen mules strayed 
last night, hut all have been recovered. No fresh signs of Indians appear since the late snow. 
Cosninos arc said to roam from Sierra Mogoyon to the San Francisco, and along the valley of 
the Colorado Chiquito. Their number has been estimated by trappers at ten thousand—prob¬ 
ably a great exaggeration. 
December 26 —Camp 90.—The morning was again clear and very cold. The pool of water 
in the canon helow the caves seems to he supplied from a spring. It has afforded sufficient for 
our large herd, above 200 mules, and appears to suffer little diminution. The fact of a good- 
sized Indian village having been established in the vicinity, is in itself a strong indication that 
the water is unfailing. 
At 9J a. m. we struck tents, and pursued our journey; the surveyors, as usual, in rear of the 
train. The route was nearly the same as that pursued in returning from the reconnaissance, 
and was quite easy, except the passage of the narrow ridge before described. Twelve miles led 
us to the southern base of the San Francisco mountains, where we encamped, from five to six 
hundred feet above Cosnino Caves. The intention was to have gone on to the San Francisco 
springs, some three and a half or four miles farther; hut, by some mistake or misapprehension, 
the advanced party encamped here without water. 
December 21 —Camp 91.—Travelling through the crusted snow became so fatiguing to the 
mules, that it was necessary to add to the force of some of the teams. This could he done only 
by abandoning a wagon, and one was therefore left behind this morning. We crossed a nar¬ 
row spur from the mountain some fifty feet in height, and in two hours reached the springs of 
San Francisco. Water there was abundant, flowing rapidly south, through an extensive grassy 
basin, towards the great valley of forest before mentioned. Thence we ascended a ravine, which, 
in one place, narrowed to a canon, and, after travelling six miles, reached Leroux’s spring. In 
the canon, fallen trees and rocks obstructed the passage for wagons. To avoid them, the guide 
led the way over a rocky hill from sixty to seventy feet in height. In a day our party could 
have rolled away the rocks and marie a good road. For a railway, it would be necessary to cut 
