I cried out: "Oh! do save our chests!" "They're all
right, we'll get them presently," said Jack. It seemed a long
time to me, before the soldiers could get them to the bank, which
they did, with the aid of stout ropes. All our worldly goods were
in those chests, and I knew they were soaked wet and probably
ruined; but, after all, what did it matter, in the face of the
serious problem which confronted us?
In the meantime, some of the men had floated the other boxes and
trunks out of the wagon back to the shore, and were busy taking
the huge vehicle apart. Any one who knows the size of an army
wagon will realize that this was hard work, especially as the
wagon was mired, and nearly submerged. But the men worked
desperately, and at last succeeded in getting every part of it
back onto the dry land.
Somebody stirred up the camp-fire and put the kettle on, and Mrs.
Bailey and I mixed up a smoking strong hot toddy for those brave
fellows, who were by this time well exhausted. Then they set to
work to make a boat, by drawing a large canvas under the body of
the wagon, and fastening it securely. For this Lieutenant of mine
had been a sailor-man and knew well how to meet emergencies.
One or two of the soldiers had now forded the stream on
horseback, and taken over a heavy rope, which was made fast to
our improvised boat. I was acquainted with all kinds of boats,
from a catamaran to a full-rigged ship, but never a craft like
this had I seen. Over the sides we clambered, however, and were
ferried across the treacherous and glassy waters of the Little
Colorado. All the baggage and the two ambulances were ferried
over, and the other wagon was unloaded and drawn over by means of
ropes.
This proceeding took all day, and of course we could get no
farther, and were again obliged to camp in that most
uncomfortable river-bottom. But we felt safer on that side. I
looked at the smooth surface of the river, and its alkali shores,
and the picture became indelibly impressed upon my memory. The
unpleasant reality destroyed any poetic associations which might
otherwise have clung to the name of Sunset Crossing in my ever
vivid imagination.
After the tents were pitched, and the camp snugged up, Mr. Bailey
produced some champagne and we wished each other joy, that we had
made the dangerous crossing and escaped the perils of Sanford's
Pass. I am afraid the champagne was not as cold as might have
been desired, but the bottle had been wrapped in a wet blanket,
and cooled a little in that way, and we drank it with zest, from
a mess-cup.
CHAPTER XVI
STONEMAN'S LAKE
The road began now to ascend, and after twenty miles' travelling
we reached a place called Updyke's Tanks. It was a nice place,
with plenty of wood and grass. The next day we camped at Jay
Coxe's Tanks. It was a hard day's march, and I was tired out when
we arrived there. The ambulance was simply jerked over those
miles of fearful rocks; one could not say driven or dragged over,
for we were pitched from rock to rock the entire distance.
Stoneman's Lake Road was famous, as I afterwards heard. Perhaps
it was just as well for me that I did not know about it in
advance.
The sure-footed mules picked their way over these sharp-edged
rocks. There was not a moment's respite. We asked a soldier to
help with holding the baby, for my arms gave out entirely, and
were as if paralyzed. The jolting threw us all by turns against
the sides of the ambulance (which was not padded), and we all got
some rather bad bruises. We finally bethought ourselves of the
pappoose basket, which we had brought along in the ambulance,
having at the last moment no other place to put it. So a halt was
called, we placed the tired baby in this semi-cradle, laced the
sides snugly over him, and were thus enabled to carry him over
those dreadful roads without danger.
He did not cry much, but the dust made him thirsty. I could not
give him nourishment without stopping the entire train of wagons,
on account of the constant pitching of the ambulance; delay was
not advisable or expedient, so my poor little son had to endure
with the rest of us. The big Alsatian cavalryman held the cradle
easily in his strong arms, and so the long miles were travelled,
one by one.
At noon of this day we made a refreshing halt, built a fire and
took some luncheon. We found a shady, grassy spot, upon which the
blankets were spread, and we stretched ourselves out upon them
and rested. But we were still some miles from water, so after a
short respite we were compelled to push on. We had been getting
steadily higher since leaving Sunset Crossing, and now it began
to be cold and looked like snow. Mrs. Bailey and I found it very
trying to meet these changes of temperature. A good place for the
camp was found at Coxe's Tanks, trenches were dug around the
tents, and the earth banked up to keep us warm. The cool air, our
great fatigue, and the comparative absence of danger combined to
give us a heavenly night's rest.
Towards sunset of the next day, which was May Day, our cavalcade
reached Stoneman's Lake. We had had another rough march, and had
reached the limit of endurance, or thought we had, when we
emerged from a mountain pass and drew rein upon the high green
mesa overlooking Stoneman's Lake, a beautiful blue sheet of
water lying there away below us.
