of seven abandoned wagons, loaded with household goods.  The harnesses remained where they had been thrown, after removing them; provisions were lying exposed upon a box, as though the family had been obliged to leave before finishing the meal; but not a living creature was in sight and, from the general appearance of the scene, we judged it must have been deserted for weeks.  It was a sad sight:  such a picture of desolation, as I care never again to witness.

Who the owners were, from whence they came, whither they were bound, or what was their fate,—­must stand one of the secrets of the desert, until revealed at the final day.

After three days of terrible suffering, we reached the banks of Carrizo Creek.  It would be impossible to describe the eagerness with which all, men and animals, plunged down its steep banks, or how we laughed and shouted as the murmur of its sparkling waters fell upon our ears, or with what pleasure we laved our burning flesh in its coolness.

This oasis in the desert is deserving a more extended description than I can give here; for it probably has not its equal in the world.  The stream rises in sand, flows through sand, and disappears in sand; having worn for itself a channel about a mile in length, fifteen or twenty feet deep, and nearly thirty in width.  The water is clear, and deliciously cool and sweet.

Here, under the benign influence exerted by this spring, we all for a time forgot our troubles:  even Patsey so far forgave Hal for the “thricks he had put upon him,” that I saw them sitting together, waist-deep in the water; the Irish boy utterly oblivious of the fact that he had neglected, before taking his bath, to remove the “buckskin suit,” which had already become considerably shrunken and curtailed, of its fair proportions, by reason of its previous wettings.

During the night we encamped here, I suddenly awoke from a very sound sleep, and saw the form of old Jerry, standing in bold relief in the moonlight upon the top of the bank, and Apparantly gazing far out into the desert.

He stood so long motionless, that I thought him asleep; but, upon speaking, to my surprise he came and seated himself by my side, and said, “Look here, judge, I want to tell yer a story.  Will yer hear it?”

I told him I would, with pleasure; and he began as follows:—­

“It was nine year ago this spring, and the first trip I ever made across this desert.  We hed been six days from Yuma to this place:  the sun all the time like a ball of fire, and the sand so hot it burnt one’s naked feet to a blister.  Not a drop of water hed we hed for our animals for three days, and only a teaspoonful for ourselves.

“On the mornin’ of the sixth day, my thirst became so great, that I determined to start out by myself, and find water.  I give my mule the rein, and he brought me to the edge of this gully; and, when I looked down into it and see the clear, cold water sparklin’ and shinin’ like diamonds, why, I burst right out into a loud laugh.