General Alexander and some other officers from the post at Fort Garland came to our camp the latter part of July. Complaint had been made by cattlemen, really some Englishmen by the name of Hamilton, that some of their cattle had been killed and they blamed the escort that accompanies the engineers for their death. Mr. Delaney, who came with the general, and I were detailed to go to Antelope park, where the ranch was located, and investigate the matter. The general and some other officers accompanied us as far as Wagon-wheel Gap and with a small escort we continued on to the park, the general and other officers returning to camp. We found the Hamilton brothers very cordial and hospitable. We talked the business over quite thoroughly and remained until near midnight before returning to our camp a short distance away. The following morning we found a half-inch or more of ice in a cup that had been left with some water in it the night before, rather cool weather I thought for the 30th of July. It was very chilly riding for the first two or three hours in the morning, but the sunshine finally got the better of the cold, and we were comfortable for the balance of the day. We camped at Wagon-wheel Gap the following night and found it an interesting place, although there was but one log building and that unoccupied, in the place.
The river here makes a great circular bend around an almost perpendicular wall of rock that I judged to be about a half-mile high. Across the river from this was a beautiful valley sloping gradually up into the mountains and in it were many hot springs varying in temperature from barely tepid to boiling hot.
The following day brought us back to our summer camp again. Our camp here was beautifully located among the pines and between the camp and bluff there was a pretty little lake which had been made by turning a little mountain stream into the low ground between the camp and the bluff. The officers' tents were in line facing this lake, and at the back ground sloped gradually to the river about a half-mile away. A very interesting "nature feature" of this camp, was the uniformity with which we got a shower of rain every morning during July and August, and we got into the habit of expecting it at eleven o'clock and were seldom disappointed. One day, August 17th, the water from the cloud in passing over became congealed and formed snow-flakes that for size were really astonishing. I was on my way to Loma on my faithful mule Paddy O'Rooney, and when it came it shut out practically everything from sight, a few yards away, and lasted probably twenty or thirty minutes. About four inches of snow fell in that time, then the sun came out bright and warm, and it seemed to go away almost as fast as it came. On my way back to camp the depressions along the way were flooded and by night only the spots protected by ledges of rock or dense foliage were left. With all these pleasant surroundings, and nothing to do but fish and hunt, life became a little monotonous. I sometimes wonder if people will get tired of golden streets and heavenly music.
The survey being ended we broke camp September 9th and started back to Fort Garland. Mr. Prout and one other engineer, whose name I cannot now recall, accepted commissions in the Egyptian army and a letter received some months later assured me it was not a very comfortable service.
While in this camp my wife and I thought one day it would be fine to take an outing together, so the ambulance was ordered and she and our little baby girl and nurse girl and myself and the driver made up the party. We crossed the west fork of the Rio Grande and went up the valley for some distance. The west fork is smaller than the main stream, with many pools and little rapids and hugs close to the north side of the valley as far as we went. The mountains rose abruptly from the waters and at a great height divided into peaks and spires, pinnacles and domes, in abandoned confusion, that impressed me not only as most remarkable but also the most beautiful combination of mountain scenery I had ever witnessed. The pools were especially attractive for I had taken my tackle with me, so I left the party in charge of the driver and started out for some good sport. I did not meet with the ready response I expected from the fish, and kept going on up stream trying one pool after another until I was quite out of sight of the ambulance but still kept going, each pool looking more inviting than the one just passed. I finally came to an unusually large pool, deep and wide, and that ran close to the perpendicular bluff on the opposite side. I had made a number of casts when a voice from somewhere called out "What luck?" It might have been from the clouds and I would not have been more surprised, and at first I could not locate it, but looked up and down stream and back over the valley but saw no one. Finally just across from me on a big block of rock that had become detached from the mountainside and in plain view sat a man. His clothing was so near the color of the rock and he sat so stalk still that I would never have discovered him if he had not made the inquiry. Answering I said, "Not very good," but some way I was so startled by that inquiry seemingly coming from the unknown and then finding a real man where of all places I least expected him, that I think I was a little nervous about it, and soon lost interest in fishing and returned to the ambulance. He had evidently been watching me as I was going up stream but made no other effort for closer acquaintance and I left him with that one response, "Not very good."
CHAPTER X.
A few days after returning to Fort Garland I was ordered to report to Major McClave who commanded a troop of cavalry and was camped near the top of Sangre De Cristo pass. The nights were cold and the camp was in every way an unpleasant one. We only remained there a few days when we broke camp and went down the Veta pass. The Sangre De Cristo and Veta passes joined just beyond the top of the range on the west side. We camped near La Veta, a Mexican village, the first night. In coming down La Veta pass we had a good view of the Spanish peaks, a name I remembered in connection with my very limited study of geography when a lad, and which for some reason I expected to be grand and commanding. After spending a summer in the mountains and seeing them in all their rugged grandeur, the peaks looked small and their hay-stack tops were disappointing. We went by easy marches until we reached a point on the Purgatory river some forty miles above its mouth where we remained in camp about a month. Our camp here was several thousand feet lower than the one near Sangre de Cristo pass and was in a fine grove of large cotton-wood trees and by comparison was a very comfortable place. The nights were a little cool but the days were delightfully pleasant. The Purgatory valley was practically unsettled in those days except near Trinidad, where there were a number of small ranches but I only remember one ranch between our camp and the mouth of the river. While in this camp a wind-storm came up one afternoon and grew in volume as the evening advanced but we felt secure on account of the bluff just across the river to the windward of us. However, I could hear it among the tree tops before dropping to sleep, and I wondered if it could do any harm. When I awoke the next morning the ridge pole of my tent was broken, and the tent crushed in by some great thing extending obliquely upward, and only a few inches above my chest. I hurried outside as quickly as I could and found an immense dead cotton-wood tree lying across my tent with the top caught in the forks of another tree a few yards away.
I found both Major McClave and Mr. Williams, his lieutenant, very interesting companions. The major had served in the ranks before the war, and had been promoted for bravery and efficiency in the service. He was a thorough soldier, courteous and considerate to everybody, and like all the officers I met from the ranks, was very devoted to his men. Mr. Williams was a West Point graduate and an accomplished gentleman, and I shall always remember my experience with this command with pleasure. Mr. Williams and I had found a fine bathing pool in the river and had frequent occasions to enjoy its chilly but invigorating qualities. One day when in the midst of our bath the bugle call for "boots and saddles" sounded. We hurried from the water, dressed and got to camp in time to find everything ready to move. A messenger had arrived in camp bringing word of an Indian raid and the killing of cattle at some point down the river toward Las Anamis. We kept going until some time after midnight when we were within a few miles of Fort Lyon and from there the major and I took the ambulance and went on into Fort Lyon to report and get such information as we could, and instructions for any further action that was considered necessary. We got back to our camp just at good daylight and found Mr. Williams and the men almost ready for the march. After a hurried breakfast we were soon on the way up the Arkansas Valley. We followed this valley to where Wild Horse creek enters the river, then turned up that creek and marched until near sundown when some cattlemen and rangers met us and reported that the Indians had turned east and would probably cross the Arkansas below Fort Lyon. Right here it is just as well to say that cavalry stand a poor show to overtake a band of Indians if they have a few miles the start. The Indian pony does not eat corn; the cavalry horses must have it or at least some kind of grain. Stop and unsaddle your Indian pony, lariat him out and give him an hour to rest and graze, and he is ready for another jaunt of a half day or more. He is a tough, hardy beast and can be forced to keep going when the cavalry horse will simply quit. We returned slowly to Fort Lyon and reported to the commanding officer for instructions, and were ordered back to Fort Union where Major McClave's troop of cavalry belonged.