stream of Arizona.  He promised to guide them to the spot where he obtained the nuggets, saying that the bottom of the stream was literally covered with golden sand, which might be seen from a distance, as it shone resplendently in the sun.  Then every able-bodied Mexican in town who possessed a horse prepared to join a prospecting expedition to the wild regions of mysterious Arizona.  They organized a company and elected a captain, a man of courage and experience.  The captain’s first official act was to place a guard of four armed men over the Navajo to prevent his escape, otherwise they treated their prisoner well.

The women of the town cooked and baked for the party, and undoubtedly each lady reveled in the hope to see her own man return with a sackful of gold; and as a result of these fanciful expectations they were in the best of spirits, laughing and singing the livelong day.

At last the party was off, and what happened to them I shall relate, as told me by the captain, Don Jose Marie Baca y Artiaga, and in his own words as nearly as I can remember them.  “Valga me, Dios, Senor!  What an experience was that trip to Arizona!  It began and ended with disappointment and disaster.  All the men of our party seemed to have lost their wits from the greed of gold.  They began by hurrying.  Those who had the best mounts rushed on ahead, carrying the Indian along with them, and strove to leave their companions who were not so well mounted behind.  The first night’s camp had of necessity to be made at a point on the Rio Puerco, distant about thirty-five miles.  As the last men rode into camp, the first comers were already making ready to leave again.  In vain I remonstrated and commanded.  There was a fight, and not until several men were seriously wounded came they to their senses and obeyed my orders.  I threatened to leave them and return home, for I knew very well that unless our party kept together we were sure to be ambushed and attacked.  I cautioned my companions as they valued their lives to watch the Navajo and shoot him on the spot at the first sign of treachery.  This devil of an Indian led us over terrible trails, across the roughest and highest peaks and the deepest canyons of a wild, broken country.  He seemed to be on the lookout ever for an opportunity to escape, but I did not give him the chance.  Our horses suffered and were well-nigh exhausted when we finally sighted the coveted stream from a spur of the Mogollon range which we were then descending.  The stream glistened and shone like gold in the distance, under the hot rays of a noonday sun and my companions would have made a dash for the coveted goal if their horses had not been utterly exhausted and footsore.  As it was, I had the greatest trouble to calm them.  Arriving at the last and steepest declivity of the trail, I succeeded in halting the party long enough to listen to my words.  ‘Companions,’ I said, ’hear me before you rush on!  I shall stay here with this Indian, whom you will first