So we set to work and built our house, forming our walls by arranging the trunks in a square, leaving a small opening to be used as a door. On this we spread the great piece of canvas which had been brought along to cover the wagon in case of storm, thus making a roof. That it might not be carried away by the wind, which was now howling like a hurricane, we weighted it with small boulders. With other rocks we built a small fireplace and chimney, without and facing our door. With the limited supply of wood, which was very scarce—sagebrush and gnarled mesquite—we built a small fire in our fireplace, much to our joy, for we were now actually blue with the cold.
The sky was now thoroughly overcast with snow-clouds and the snow was beginning to fall, settling in miniature drifts beneath the sage bushes.
In removing the trunks from the wagon our labours had been heavy, and we realized, as Bates expressed it, “we were twenty miles from nowhere, and not a drop of water nearer than Bonita.”
Bates rummaged through the kit for a drink of any kind, but was only able to produce a diminutive flask with about one swallow of whisky in it. After offering this to me he took it down with a cheering “Here’s to you!”
“Don’t throw away that flask, Bates,” I called to him as I saw him taking aim at a near-by sage bush. “I may be able to collect a drink with that.”
I filled the little flask as full as I could pack it with snow which I collected under the bushes, then held it carefully over the fire, reducing the snow to water. This barely gave us enough to moisten our lips, and I gave it up.
Then we wrapped ourselves up in our blankets and reclined inside our improvised house and discussed matters.
“I say, Bates, what did you think of the colonel’s story about Apaches being out?” I asked.
“Can’t say. I know if I were an Apache and had a warm wigwam to crawl into, the warpath could go to perdition. I’m sure I wouldn’t bother with it this kind of weather. You won’t have the pleasure of meeting Geronimo, ’Apache Kid,’ nor any other human—and, I might add, inhuman—being till the weather lets up.”
“What have you got for protection in case we do run across them?” I asked.