to an end.

The months flew by, and the second winter found us still there; we heard
rumors of Indian troubles in Arizona, and at last the orders came. The
officers packed away their evening clothes in camphor and had their
campaign clothes put out to air, and got their mess-chests in order,
and the post was alive with preparations for the field. All the families
were to stay behind. The most famous Indian renegade was to be hunted
down, and serious fighting was looked for.

At last all was ready, and the day was fixed for the departure of the
troops.

The winter rains had set in, and the skies were grey, as the command
marched down to the boat.

The officers and soldiers were in their campaign clothes; the latter had
their blanket-rolls and haversacks slung over their shoulders, and their
tin cups, which hung from the haversacks, rattled and jingled as they
marched down in even columns of four, over the wet and grassy slopes of
the parade ground, where so short a time before all had been glitter and
sunshine.

I realized then perhaps for the first time what the uniform really stood
for; that every man who wore it, was going out to fight--that they
held their lives as nothing. The glitter was all gone; nothing but sad
reality remained.

The officers' wives and the soldiers' wives followed the troops to the
dock. The soldiers marched single file over the gang-plank of the
boat, the officers said good-bye, the shrill whistle of the "General
McPherson" sounded--and they were off. We leaned back against the
coal-sheds, and soldiers' and officers' wives alike all wept together.

And now a season of gloom came upon us. The skies were dull and murky
and the rain poured down.

Our old friend Bailey, who was left behind on account of illness, grew
worse and finally his case was pronounced hopeless. His death added to
the deep gloom and sadness which enveloped us all.

A few of the soldiers who had staid on the Island to take care of the
post, carried poor Bailey to the boat, his casket wrapped in the flag
and followed by a little procession of women. I thought I had never seen
anything so sad.

The campaign lengthened out into months, but the California winters are
never very long, and before the troops came back the hills looked their
brightest green again. The campaign had ended with no very serious
losses to our troops and all was joyous again, until another order took
us from the sea-coast to the interior once m