than a rill when we crossed it a few hours before, now rolled and
boomed, a torrent several fathoms deep and dirtier than ever.

The storm continued little over half an hour, and with the return of
sunlight the surface water rapidly disappeared. Demoralized tents were
then set up, baggage and bedding examined, and the wet articles
exposed to the sun; and before night, except for the booming of the
river, little remained to remind us that we had been through a storm.

Just before retreat, Frank, Henry, and I stood on the bank of the
river watching the trunks and branches of trees rush past, and the
occasional plunge of a mass of earth undermined by the current.

"Well," said Frank, after silently contemplating the scene a few
moments, "what you told us about crossing a stream before camping upon
it has proved true, sir, and very quickly, too."

"Yes; I think even the paymaster and surgeon must be congratulating
themselves they are on this side of that flood," I replied.

Next morning we resumed our march at the usual hour, and passed over
23.28 miles to a deserted Mexican town and Indian pueblo.

On the following day we crossed a chain of hills into the valley of
the Rio Gallo. As we debouched from a deep ravine we caught sight of
the pueblo of Laguna, illuminated by the sun, just rising, behind us.
The town stands upon a rocky eminence overlooking the river, which
waters, by irrigation, its large and well-cultivated valley.

When within four miles of it I proposed to the boys that we should