I thought of the Harz Mountains, which I had so recently tramped
over, and the romantic names and legends connected with them, and
I sighed to think such an imposing landmark as this should have
such a prosaic name. I realized that Arizona was not a land of
romance; and when Jack came to the ambulance, I said, "Don't you
think it a pity that such monstrous things are allowed in
America, as to call that great fine mountain 'Bill Williams'
mountain'?"
"Why no," he said; "I suppose he discovered it, and I dare say he
had a hard enough time before he got to it."
We camped at Fort Rock, and Lieutenant Bailey shot an antelope.
It was the first game we had seen; our spirits revived a bit; the
sight of green grass and trees brought new life to us.
Anvil Rock and old Camp Hualapais were our next two stopping
places. We drove through groves of oaks, cedars and pines, and
the days began hopefully and ended pleasantly. To be sure, the
roads were very rough and our bones ached after a long day's
travelling. But our tents were now pitched under tall pine trees
and looked inviting. Soldiers have a knack of making a tent
attractive.
"Madame, the Lieutenant's compliments, and your tent is ready."
I then alighted and found my little home awaiting me. The
tent-flaps tied open, the mattresses laid, the blankets turned
back, the camp-table with candle-stick upon it, and a couple of
camp-chairs at the door of the tent. Surely it is good to be in
the army I then thought; and after a supper consisting of
soldiers' hot biscuit, antelope steak broiled over the coals, and
a large cup of black coffee, I went to rest, listening to the
soughing of the pines.
My mattress was spread always upon the ground, with a buffalo
robe under it and a hair lariat around it, to keep off the
snakes; as it is said they do not like to cross them. I found the
ground more comfortable than the camp cots which were used by
some of the officers, and most of the women.
The only Indians we had seen up to that time were the peaceful
tribes of the Yumas, Cocopahs and Mojaves, who lived along the
Colorado. We had not yet entered the land of the dread Apache.
The nights were now cool enough, and I never knew sweeter rest
than came to me in the midst of those pine groves.
Our road was gradually turning southward, but for some days Bill
Williams was the predominating feature of the landscape; turn
whichever way we might, still this purple mountain was before us.
It seemed to pervade the entire country, and took on such
wonderful pink colors at sunset.
