One evening, nearly a month afterwards, I received an order to march
my company into the Jemez Mountains to co-operate with other detached
commands in a war being carried on against the Navajo Indians. Just as
I had laid aside the order after reading it, Colonel Burton entered,
and, taking a seat by my fireside, announced that he had been ordered
on detached service to northern Colorado, on a tour of inspection,
which would require him to be absent for a considerable period, and
that he had been thinking of allowing his sons to accompany me to my
camp at Los Valles Grandes.
"The hunting and fishing are fine in those valleys, and Frank and
Henry would enjoy life there very much," he said. "They have done so
well in their studies that they deserve a well-earned recreation."
"I should much like to have their company, sir," I replied, "but would
it not be exposing them to great danger from the Indians?"
"The officer whom you are to relieve has been in the valleys nearly a
year, and he reports that he has not seen a Navajo in all that time.
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