ding post, to exchange his peltries for powder,
wearing apparel, etc. From him we learned that the Indians were
preparing for some extensive raid, as he had seen numerous parties who
were in their war paint. Among other items, he related how he had been
captured by a hand of Apaches, and had remained among them eight days
before he succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his guard. From him I
gained the first information concerning my wife. He had been captured by
some of Mahtocheega's band, and by the description he gave of the white
captives at that time in the village, I felt sure that my wife was one
of the number. Learning that on his return he would proceed to the same
locality in quest of "beaver plew," I determined to accompany him. About
half a dozen signified their intention of following my example, and a
party was soon made up. The trapper bade us adieu, promising to return
as soon as his skins were traded for the supplies of which he stood in
need. Gathering together what little money I had, I purchased a horse,
rifle and pistol, and prepared to go in search of my lost wife.

We had not long to wait for our new friend; he returned in less than a
week's time, and all being in readiness, we gathered up our traps, and
took a final leave of the mine of San Ildefonso.

Passing out at the northern end of the settlement, we struck the Santa
Fe road, and followed its sinuous windings for some days. We passed
through the sleepy Mexican towns, that were situated along the route,
without disturbing in the least degree the habitual drowsiness of their
inhabitants. On the fourth day we made a stretch of sixty miles through
that terror of travelers in this section--the "jornado del muerto."
After having crossed in safety, we rested one day to recuperate the
animals, and soon after arrived in Santa Fe, halting at the inn that had
been the scene of the shooting affray on my former visit. Our stay in
the capital of New Mexico was not of long duration, and once more we
resumed our journey, striking out in a westerly direction towards the
mountains.

Our first encampment was on the banks of one of the tributaries of the
Rio Colorado. Staking our horses out, as is the custom, we gathered
around the camp fire, discussing our evening meal of fresh antelope
steaks. Many were the stories told of trapper life, and as we filled our
pipes for a smoke before retiring, the subject of conversation was upon
food. All had some anecdote to