“What does a railroad look like, Jeem?” queried little Francisco, hearing the talk.
Jimmie himself had not seen a railroad for several years, but he remembered, and he tried to explain.
“It’s two lines of iron, like wagon-wheel tracks, reaching miles and miles, chico,” he said. “And on them roll fine wagons, joined together and filled with people, and drawn by a—did you ever hear about boats, chico? Those boats that sail up and down the Colorado River, and make a big noise?”
Francisco eagerly nodded.
“My father has a brother who saw one.”
“Well, the thing that hauls the wagons is a steamboat on land. It runs without horses; and it runs so fast that it could go from here to Tucson, fifty-five miles, in two hours.”
Francisco crossed himself.
“I would be afraid, Jeem,” he quavered.
Poor little Francisco! He was to meet a sad fate.
But, first, June and July passed quietly at Camp Grant. From Fort Whipple General Crook continued to keep scouting detachments and pack-trains moving. The various posts were strengthened by troops and supplies. The greater portion of the Fifth Cavalry was in Arizona, with some troops of the First Cavalry, and part of the Twelfth Infantry and of the Twenty-third Infantry—the general’s regiment. The Twenty-first Infantry and most of the Third Cavalry had gone out.