On reaching Algodones, on the eastern bank of the great river, I was
visited by a Catholic priest. He told me that Manuel Perea, the
Mexican lad with whom the boy corporals were so friendly at Santa Fé,
was a prisoner in the hands of Elarnagan, a chief of the Navajos. He
begged me to assist in his release, and I promised to do all I could,
consistently with my military duty. Two days after arriving at Los
Pinos, where I found a troop of California volunteer cavalry and also
another troop of New Mexican volunteers, the boy corporals
unexpectedly arrived. Colonel Burton had changed his plans and had
allowed them to accompany me. They at once asked to be assigned to
duty, and I promised to consult with Captain Bayard.

My interview with him concluded, I returned to my tent and found the
boys busy in fitting up two cot bedsteads, spreading mats before them,
hanging a small mirror to the rear tent-pole, and arranging their
marching outfit as they proposed to set it up at every encampment
between the Rio Grande and Prescott.

"Did you have this tent pitched for our use, sir?" asked Henry.

"I did not know you were coming, corporal, so that is impossible. Your
tent was placed here some days ago by the post commander, for the
accommodation of visiting officers who have since gone. Captain Bayard
has assigned it to you."

"Then we are to have the tent to ourselves?"

"Yes."