wound.
I had fallen near some rocks at the bottom of a precipice, where I saw
there was a small crevice or cave. I had still strength enough left to
enable me to reach this cave, and crawl into it; but I fainted as soon
as the effort was over.

"I must have lain insensible for many hours. When I came to
consciousness again, I saw that daylight was shining into the cave. I
felt that I was very weak, and could scarcely move. My ghastly wound
stared me in the face,--still undressed, but the blood had ceased
flowing of its own accord. I tore up my shirt, and dressed it as well
as I was able; and then, getting nearer to the mouth of the cave, I lay
and listened. I could hear the voices of the Indians, though very
indistinctly, in the direction of the camp. This continued for an hour
or more; and then the rocks rang with a terrible explosion, which I knew
to be the bursting of a shell. After that I could hear loud shouts, and
soon after, the hurried trampling of many horses; and then all was
silence. I thought at the time that the Indians had taken their
departure; but I knew not what had caused them to go off in such a
hurry. I found out afterwards. Your conjecture was right. They had
thrown one of the bombs into the fire, and the fuse catching, had caused
it to explode, killing several of their number. As they believed it to
be the hand of the Great Spirit, they had hastily gathered up such
plunder as was most desirable to them, and ridden away from the spot. I
did not know this at the time, and I lay still in my cave. For several
hours all was silence; but, as night drew near, I fancied I again heard
noises about the camp, and I thought the Indians might not yet be gone.

"When darkness came, I would have crawled toward the camp, but I could
not; and I lay all night in the cave, chafing with the pain of my wound,
and listening to the howling of the wolves. That was a terrible night.

"Morning dawned again, and I could hear no sounds. I was now suffering
dreadfully, both from hunger and thirst. I saw a well-known tree
growing in front of the cave. I knew it, because the same tree is found
upon the mountains of the Mimbres, near our mine. It was a species of
pine, called by the Mexicans `pinon,' whose cones afford food to
thousands of the miserable savages who roam over the great western
Desert from the Rocky Mountains to California. If I could only reach
this tree, I might find some of its nuts upon t