evening at Santa Fé.

The general sent a hundred troopers to Los Valles Grandes, where they
came galloping into camp two evenings afterwards. As Captain Wardwell
sprang from his saddle and wrung my hand, he exclaimed:

"God bless you, Duncan! I came out expecting to bury the bones of you
and your men."

I was glad to see the California cavalry officers, and, during the
three days of their stay in the valley for rest after a forced march,
did the honors to the best of my ability. On the day of their
departure the wagons returned loaded with supplies. Instructions were
received to send back all but one wagon and six mules.

With the departure of cavalry and wagons, life in the valley settled
down to quiet routine. I spent some time in instructing my companions,
according to an agreement I had made with their father. Not being a
West-Pointer, but a college graduate with a fair knowledge of Greek
and Latin, and some other acquirements not considered of military
utility, I was able to carry out a desire of the colonel and assist
the boys in preparing themselves for college.

We rarely received visits from the outside world. The nearest hamlet
was an Indian pueblo, twenty-six miles away, in the Rio Jemez Valley,
and representatives of the army seldom had occasion to visit our
outposts. The mail arrived from Santa Fé every Saturday afternoon, and
left every Monday morning in the saddle-bags of two cavalry
express-men.