This part of the march led through what is now marked on the maps of southern California as the "Colorado Desert," "nature's exhausted region lying between the Colorado river and the eastern base of the coast range"—some of it being below the sea level. Much of the dreary way lay through stretches of sand, and the men were compelled to aid the teams by pulling on ropes, fifteen to twenty men to a wagon. No water was to be had but by the digging of deep wells in the desert sands. These often yielded but little, and at that a poor quality, of water. The suffering of both men and beasts was terrible. "The march of the last five days"—the time it took to cross the desert to the little running stream called "Carriso Creek,"—was "the most trying of any we had made on both men and animals," writes Col. Cooke.

Destitution and Suffering of the Men en March.—"We here found the heaviest sand, hottest days, and coldest nights," says Tyler, "with no water and but little food." "At this time," he continues, "the men were nearly bare-footed; some used, instead of shoes, rawhide wrapped around their feet, while others improvised a novel style of boots by stripping the skin from the leg of an ox. To do this, a ring was cut around the hide above and below the gambrel joint, and then the skin taken off without cutting it lengthwise. After this, the lower end was sewed up with sinews, when it was ready for the wearer, the natural crook of the hide adapting it somewhat to the shape of the foot. Others wrapped cast-off clothing around their feet, to shield them from the burning sand during the day and the cold at night.

"Before we arrived at the Carriso many of the men were so nearly used up from thirst, hunger and fatigue, that they were unable to speak until they reached the water or had it brought to them. Those who were strongest reported, when they arrived, that they had passed many lying exhausted by the way-side."[46:a]

Col. Cooke refers to these conditions in his "Conquest of New Mexico:"[46:b] "A great many of my men are wholly without shoes, and used every expedient, such as rawhide moccasins and sandals, and even wrapping their feet in pieces of woolen and cotton cloth." Of the march on the 16th of January the Colonel remarks: "Near eleven, [A. M.] I reached, with the foremost wagon, the first water of the Carriso [Cooke's spelling is 'Cariza']; a clear running stream gladdened the eyes, after the anxious dependence on muddy wells for five or six days. I found the march [i. e. of the day] to be nineteen miles; thus without water for near three days, (for the working animals) and camping two nights in succession, without water, the battalion made in forty-eight hours, four marches, of eighteen, eight, eleven and nineteen miles, suffering from frost, and from summer heat."[46:c]

Of the march of the 17th, he said: "The men arrived here, [Carriso Creek camp] completely worn down; they staggered as they marched, as they did yesterday, [the 18th:] Some of the men did not find strength to reach the camp before daylight this morning. * * * I went through the companies this morning; they were eating their last four ounces of flour; of sugar and coffee there has been none for weeks. I have remaining only five public wagons, there are three private property." Yet, as showing the spirit of these Battalion men in such plight he writes of the evening in camp of that same day—"The men, who this morning were prostrate, worn out, hungry, heartless, have recovered their spirits to-night, and are singing and playing the fiddle."[47:d]

From Carriso Creek to San Phillips.—The march from Carriso Creek was to San Phillips, an Indian village on a small stream of the same name. It was on approaching San Phillips that the rugged heart of the coast mountains was encountered, "which seemed to defy aught save the wild goat," according to Col. Cooke's description; over which "with crow bar and pick and axe in hand," he continues, "the Battalion worked its way." Here also the "chasm of living rock, more narrow than their wagons," was encountered, through which they hewed a passage for the wagons, the Colonel himself taking a hand in the hewing. "I came to the canyon," says the Colonel, "and found it much worse than I had been led to expect [i. e. by the report of the guides]; there were many rocks to surmount, but the worst was the narrow pass. Setting the example myself, there was much work done on it before the wagons came; the rock was hewn with axes to increase the opening. I thought it wide enough, and going on, found a hill to be ascended, to avoid a still narrower pass, a great rock had to be broken, before it could be crossed. But when a trial was made, at the first pass, it was found too narrow by a foot of solid rock. More work was done, and several trials made. The sun was now only an hour high, and it was about seven miles to the first water. I had a wagon taken to pieces, and carried through. Meanwhile, we still hewed and hammered at the mountain side; but the best road tools had been lost. * * * The next wagon body was lifted through, and then the running gear, by lifting one side; then I rode on again, and saw a wagon up the very steep hill, and down again to the canyon. The work on the pass was perseveringly continued, and the last two wagons were pulled through by the mules, with loads undisturbed."

The confused information respecting the state of hostilities, the likelihood of meeting retreating bands of Californians, en route for the Mexican state of Sonora, led the Colonel to renew his march on the 19th in a more strictly military order than he had hitherto followed, and the Battalion, while waiting for the wagons to come up, was exercised on a prairie in military tactics.

The Battalion was under orders to march to San Diego and there join Gen. Kearny. "But communication with that officer was now cut off," writes Colonel Cooke. "By the best information the enemy were concentrated at Los Angeles. The General was marching on it from the south, and Lieutenant-Colonel Fremont approaching from the north; so that a direct march on Los Angeles from the east was evidently the proper course; and especially so, as Captain Montgomery, [from San Diego] had written, January 15th, that it was generally believed that parties of Californians, headed by leaders who had broken their paroles, would endeavor to effect a retreat to Sonora, rather than submit to our arms. * * * It was determined to take the direct road to Los Angeles; and the guides were sent to Warner's, to collect mules, etc."

At Warner's Rancho.—Warner's Ranch was reached on the 21st, the Battalion being again drilled enroute. It was found necessary to rest at Warner's on the 22nd. "This is a beautiful valley, shut in by mountains or high hills on every side," writes Col. Cooke, "The name, Agua Caliente, comes from a bold stream, issuing from rock fissures at the temperature of 170°; it now sends up little clouds of steam for half a mile below. The valley, a mile long, is elliptical, and its green smooth surface really oval; at its centre stands a wonderful evergreen oak, its boughs reaching a circle, five feet above the ground, and ninety feet in diameter; the hot stream runs round one side, a cold one around the other. The Indians, of cold nights, select spots below the spring, of agreeable temperature to sleep, lying in the stream, with sod bank for a pillow."[49:e]

The March Directed to San Diego.—On the 23rd of January a march of eighteen miles was made over the hills from Warner's Rancho. It rained several hours in the afternoon, and again at night, then continued for twenty-four hours. "The Battalion had fallen upon the rainy season. All tents were blown down in the night," writes Col. Cooke, speaking of the night of the 23rd. "The ill-clad Battalion," he continues, "were drenched and suffered much." A twelve mile march over the hills from Warner's, on the 25th of January, brought the Battalion into the Temecala valley. There an official dispatch brought to Col. Cooke the announcement that Gen. Kearny had returned to San Diego, and that the Battalion was expected there as originally ordered. Accordingly the next morning the march was directed southward, toward the San Diego mission. The San Luis valley and river was crossed on the 26th, and encampment made near a rancho.