and brush, to pry mired wheels up to firm ground, and repair broken
harnesses and wagons, we were over half a day in going a distance
which could have been accomplished in two hours by soldiers
unencumbered with a baggage and supply train.

The downward march on the western slope of the mountain-range was
rapidly made over a smooth road through a continuous avenue of
overarching forest trees, and without a halt. From the lower limit of
the forest we caught the first glimpse of the Great Valleys. The
valley before us was fourteen miles long, and of a nearly uniform
width of eight miles. It was almost surrounded by mountains; in fact,
while there were many trails leading out of it, there was but one
practicable wagon-road--that by which we had entered. But at the
southern extremity there was a precipitous cañon, through which flowed
a considerable stream. To the west was another cañon, a dry one,
called La Puerta--the doorway--which led into the second valley,
called the Valley of San Antonio.

The Great Valley, on the eastern edge of which I had halted the
company for a few moments' rest and observation, was lower through the
centre than at the sides. It was not unlike an oblong platter, and was
absolutely treeless, except that opposite us a bold, pine-clad point
jutted out from the western mountain-range about three miles, like a
headland into the sea.

The whole valley was verdant with thick grass. The two boys, sitting
on their ponies a few yards in advance of the company line, were in
raptures over the prospect.

"This is the first bit of country I've seen in New Mexico that looks