ed and hungry.

Jack and I sat down by the camp-fire, musing over the hard times we were
having, when suddenly I heard a terrified cry from my little son. We
rushed to the tent, lighted a candle, and oh! horror upon horrors!
his head and face were covered with large black ants; he was wailing
helplessly, and beating the air with his tiny arms.

"My God!" cried Jack, "we're camped over an ant-hill!"

I seized the child, and brushing off the ants as I fled, brought him out
to the fire, where by its light I succeeded in getting rid of them all.
But the horror of it! Can any mother brought up in God's country with
kind nurses and loved ones to minister to her child, for a moment
imagine how I felt when I saw those hideous, three-bodied, long-legged
black ants crawling over my baby's face? After a lapse of years, I
cannot recall that moment without a shudder.

The soldiers at last found a place which seemed to be free from
ant-hills, and our tent was again pitched, but only to find that the
venomous things swarmed over us as soon as we lay down to rest.

And so, after the fashion of the Missouri emigrant, we climbed into the
ambulance and lay down upon our blankets in the bottom of it, and tried
to believe we were comfortable.

My long, hard journey of the preceding autumn, covering a period of
two months; my trying experiences during the winter at Camp Apache; the
sudden break-up and the packing; the lack of assistance from a nurse;
the terrors of the journey; the sympathy for my child, who suffered from
many ailments and principally from lack of nourishment, added to the
profound fatigue I felt, had reduced my strength to a minimum. I wonder
that I lived, but something sustained me, and when we reached Camp Verde
the next day, and drew up before Lieutenant O'Connell's quarters, and
saw Mrs. O'Connell's kind face beaming to welcome us, I felt that here
was relief at last.

The tall Alsatian handed the pappoose cradle to Mrs. O'Connell.

"Gracious goodness! what is this?" cried the bewildered woman; "surely
it cannot be your baby! You haven't turned entirely Indian, have you,
amongst those wild Apaches?"

I felt sorry I had not taken him out of the basket before we arrived. I
did not realize the impression it would make at Camp Verde. After
all, they did not know anything about our life at Apache, or our rough
travels to get back from there. Here were lace-curtained windows,
well-dressed women, smart uniforms, and,