water and--"

I suppose I was running on with all my grievances, but she stopped me
and said again: "Soon, now, you will not mind it at all. Ella and I are
army girls, you know, and we do not mind anything. There's no use in
fretting about little things."

Miss Wilkins' remarks made a tremendous impression upon my mind and I
began to study her philosophy.

At break of day the command marched out, their rifles on their
shoulders, swaying along ahead of us, in the sunlight and the heat,
which continued still to be almost unendurable. The dry white dust of
this desert country boiled and surged up and around us in suffocating
clouds.

I had my own canteen hung up in the ambulance, but the water in it got
very warm and I learned to take but a swallow at a time, as it could not
be refilled until we reached the next spring--and there is always some
uncertainty in Arizona as to whether the spring or basin has gone dry.
So water was precious, and we could not afford to waste a drop.

At about noon we reached a forlorn mud hut, known as Packwood's ranch.
But the place had a bar, which was cheerful for some of the poor men,
as the two days' marches had been rather hard upon them, being so "soft"
from the long voyage. I could never begrudge a soldier a bit of cheer
after the hard marches in Arizona, through miles of dust and burning
heat, their canteens long emptied and their lips parched and dry. I
watched them often as they marched along with their blanket-rolls, their
haversacks, and their rifles, and I used to wonder that they did not
complain.

About that time the greatest luxury in the entire world seemed to me
to be a glass of fresh sweet milk, and I shall always remember Mr.
Packwood's ranch, because we had milk to drink with our supper, and some
delicious quail to eat.

Ranches in that part of Arizona meant only low adobe dwellings occupied
by prospectors or men who kept the relays of animals for stage routes.
Wretched, forbidding-looking places they were! Never a tree or a bush to
give shade, never a sign of comfort or home.

Our tents were pitched near Packwood's, out in the broiling sun. They
were like ovens; there was no shade, no coolness anywhere; we would have
gladly slept, after the day's march, but instead we sat broiling in the
ambulances, and waited for the long afternoon to wear away.

The next day dragged along in the same manner; the command marching
bravely along through dust and heat and thirst,