heir impressions unnatural and wearisome. My
wound began to pain me afresh, and the hot sun, and the dust, and the
thirst, with the miserable accommodations of New Mexican posadas, vexed
me to an excess of endurance.

On the fifth day after leaving Santa Fe, we entered the wretched little
pueblo of Parida. It was my intention to have remained there all night,
but it proved a ruffian sort of place, with meagre chances of comfort,
and I moved on to Socorro. This is the last inhabited spot in New
Mexico, as you approach the terrible desert, the Jornada del Muerte.

Gode had never made the journey, and at Parida I had obtained one thing
that we stood in need of, a guide. He had volunteered; and as I learnt
that it would be no easy task to procure one at Socorro, I was fain to
take him along. He was a coarse, shaggy-looking customer, and I did not
at all like his appearance; but I found, on reaching Socorro, that what
I had heard was correct. No guide could be hired on any terms, so great
was their dread of the Jornada and its occasional denizens, the Apaches.

Socorro was alive with Indian rumours, "novedades." The Indians had
fallen upon an atajo near the crossing of Fra Cristobal, and murdered
the arrieros to a man. The village was full of consternation at the
news. The people dreaded an attack, and thought me mad, when I made
known my intention of crossing the Jornada.

I began to fear they would frighten my guide from his engagement, but
the fellow stood out staunchly, still expressing his willingness to
accompany us.

Without the prospect of meeting the Apache savages, I was but ill
prepared for the Jornada. The pain of my wound had increased, and I was
fatigued and burning with fever.

But the caravan had passed through Socorro only three days before, and I
was in hopes of overtaking my old companions before they could leave El
Paso. This determined me to proceed in the morning, and I made
arrangements for an early start.

Gode and I were awake before dawn. My attendant went out to summon the
guide and saddle our animals. I remained in the house, making
preparations for a cup of coffee before starting. I was assisted by the
landlord of the posada, who had risen, and was stalking about in his
serape.

While thus engaged I was startled by the voice of Gode calling from
without, "Von maitre! von maitre! the rascal have him run vay!"

"What do you mean? Who has run away?"

"Oh, monsieur! la Mexi