expected to last us one week--everything, in fact, except coffee,
sugar, and such things that we keep in the kitchen, where it is dry.

The commissary is open Saturday mornings only, at which time we are
requested to purchase all supplies we will need from there for the
following week, and as we have no fresh vegetables whatever, and no
meat except beef, we are very dependent upon the canned goods and
other things in the commissary.

Last Saturday Mrs. Hunt and I sent over as usual, and most of the
supplies were put in a little dug-out cellar in the yard that we use
together--she having one side, I the other. On Sunday morning Farrar
happened to be the first cook to go out for things for breakfast, and
he found that the door had been broken open and the shelves as bare as
Mother Hubbard's. Everything had been carried off except a few candles
on Mrs. Hunt's side, and a few cakes of laundry soap on mine! The
candles they had no use for, and the thieves were probably of a class
that had no use for soap, either.

Our breakfast that morning was rather light, but as soon as word got
abroad of our starving condition, true army hospitality and generosity
manifested itself. We were invited out to luncheon, and to dinner, and
to breakfast the next morning. You can see how like one big family a
garrison can be, and how in times of trouble we go to each other's
assistance. Of course, now and then we have disagreeable persons with
us--those who will give you only three hours to move out of your
house, or one who will order your cook from you.

CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY,
January, 1873.