he seeds, I collected my pockets full, and set out again
for the sorrel-tree. Here I spent the day; and with a fresh cargo of
leaves returned at night to the pinon, where I again slept.

"Thus, for four successive days and nights, I passed between these two
brave trees, living upon the sustenance they afforded. The fever was
luckily warded off by the leaves of the friendly lyonia. My wound began
to heal, and the pain left it. The wolves came at intervals; but,
seeing my long knife, and that I still lived, they kept at a wary
distance.

"Although the leaves of the sorrel assuaged my thirst, they did not
satisfy it. I longed for a good draught of water; and, on the fourth
day, I set out for the stream. I was now able to creep upon my hands
and one knee, dragging the wounded limb after me. When I had got about
half-way through the underwood, I came upon an object that almost
congealed the blood in my veins. It was a human skeleton. I knew it
was not that of a man--I knew it was--"

Here the voice of the miner became choked with sobs, and he was unable
to finish the sentence. Nearly all in the room--even the rude hunters--
wept as they beheld his emotion. After an effort he continued:--

"I saw that she had been buried; and I wondered at this, for I knew the
Indians had not done it. I was never certain until this hour who had
performed for her that sacred rite. I thought, however, it must have
been you; for after I had recovered I went back upon the trail; and, not
finding your wagon anywhere, I knew you must have come on to the camp,
and gone away again. I looked in every direction to find which way you
had gone; but, as you will remember, there was a heavy fall of rain
shortly after, and that had obliterated every track. All this happened
after I was able to get upon my feet, which was not for a month after
the night of the massacre. But let me go back in my narrative to where
I had found the remains of my poor wife.

"The wolves had torn the body from its grave. I looked for some vestige
of my child. With my hands I dug down into the loose mould and leaves,
which you had thrown over her body; but no infant was there. I crawled
on to the camp. I found that, just as you have described it--except
that the bodies were now bleaching skeletons, and the wolves had taken
their departure. I searched around, on all sides, thinking I might find
some traces of my little Luisa; but in vain. `The Indians have