Twenty days' march up the Yaqui Valley, through Arispe, where the
filibusters died with Spartan bravery, is a weary jaunt. But high
hopes buoy them up. Over mesa and gorge, past hacienda and Indian
settlement, they climb passes until the great mountains break away.
Crossing the muddy Rio Grande, Valois is greeted by old friends.
He sees the Confederate flag for the first time, floating over the
turbulent levies of Sibley, still at Fort Bliss.

Long and weary marches; dangers from bandit, Indian, and lurking
Mexican; regrets for the home circle at Lagunitas, make Maxime Valois
very grave. Individual sacrifices are not appreciated in war-time.
As he rides through the Confederate camp, his heart sinks. The
uncouth straggling plainsmen, without order or regular equipment,
recall to him his old enemies, the nomadic Mexican vaqueros.

There seems to be no supply train, artillery, or regular stores. These
are not the men who can overawe the compact California community.
Far gray rocky sandhills stretch along the Texan border. Over the
Rio Grande, rich mountain scenery delights the eye. It instantly
recalls to Valois the old Southern dream of taking the "Zona Libre."
Tamaulipas, Coahuila, and Nueva Leon were coveted as a crowning
trophy of the Mexican war. Dreams of olden days.

Received kindly by General Sibley, the Louisianian delivers his
letters, despatches, and messages. After rest and refreshment, he
is asked to join a council of war. There are fleet couriers, lately
arrived, who speak of Carleton's column being nearly ready to cross
the Colorado. When the General explains his plan of attacking the
Federal forces in New Mexico, and occupying Arizona, Valois hastens
to urge a forced march down to the fertile Gila. He trusts to Canby