The cooking fires were built away from the park, and outside the beats of the sentries.  The object was twofold:  first, to keep sparks from lighting on the wagon covers; second, to hide the sentries from prowling archers.  At night you can see everything between yourself and a fire, but nothing beyond it.  As long as the wood continued to blaze, the most adroit Indian skulker could not approach the camp without exposing himself, while the guards and the garrison were veiled from his sight by a wall of darkness behind a dazzle of light.

Such were the bivouac arrangements, intelligent, systematic, and military.  Not only had our Lieutenant devised them, but he saw to it that they were kept in working order.  He was zealously and faithfully seconded by his men, and especially by his two veterans.  There is no human machine more accurate and trustworthy than an old soldier, who has had year on year of the discipline and drill of a regular service, and who has learned to carry out instructions to the letter.

The arrangements for the march were equally thorough and judicious.  Texas Smith, as the Nimrod of the party, claimed the right of going where he pleased; but while he hunted, he of course served also as a scout to nose out danger.  The six Mexicans, who were nominally cattle-drivers, but really Coronado’s minor bravos, were never suffered to ride off in a body, and were expected to keep on both sides of the train, some in advance and some in rear.  The drivers and muleteers remained steadily with their wagons and animals.  The four soldiers were also at hand, trudging close in front or in rear, accoutrements always on and muskets always loaded.

In this fashion the expedition had already journeyed over two hundred and twenty miles.  Following Colonel Washington’s trail, it had crossed the ranges of mountains immediately west of Abiquia, and, striking the Rio de Chaco, had tracked its course for some distance with the hope of reaching the San Juan.  Stopped by a canon, a precipitous gully hundreds of feet deep, through which the Chaco ran like a chased devil, the wagons had turned westward, and then had been forced by impassable ridges and lack of water into a southwest direction, at last gaining and crossing Pass Washington.

It was now on the western side of the Sierra de Chusca, in the rude, barren country over which Fort Defiance stands sentry.  Ever since the second day after leaving San Isidore it had been on the great western slope of the continent, where every drop of water tends toward the Pacific.  The pilgrims would have had cause to rejoice could they have travelled as easily as the drops of water, and been as certain of their goal.  But the rivers had made roads for themselves, and man had not yet had time to do likewise.