were not at peace among themselves,--the chances were that if you met in
the road it was to draw arms, and declare whether you were for the North
or the South.

The Mexicans at the mines assassinated all the white men there when they
were asleep, looted the place, and fled across the boundary to Mexico.
The smoke of burning wheat-fields could be seen up and down the Santa
Cruz valley, where the troops were in retreat, destroying everything
before and behind them. The government of the United States abandoned
the first settlers of Arizona to the merciless Apaches. It was
impossible to remain in the country and continue the business without
animals for transportation, so there was nothing to be done but to pack
our portable property on the few animals we kept in stables, and strike
out across the deserts for California.

With only one companion, Professor Pumpelly, and a faithful negro and
some friendly Indians for packers, we made the journey to Yuma by the
fourth of July, where we first heard of the battle of Bull Run. Another
journey took us across the Colorado Desert to Los Angeles, and thence we
went by steamer to San Francisco, and thence via Panama to New York.

It was sad to leave the country that had cost so much money and blood in
ruins, but it seemed to be inevitable. The plant of the Company at this
time in machinery, materials, tools, provisions, animals, wagons, etc.,
amounted to considerably over a million dollars, but the greatest blow
was the destruction of our hopes,--not so much of making money as of
making a country. Of all the lonesome sounds that I remember (and it
seems ludicrous now), most distinct is the crowing of cocks on the
deserted ranches. The very chickens seemed to know that they were
abandoned.