Henry was left behind, but Frank accompanied us, mounted on the
recently captured Sancho, proud of his horse and proud to be included
in the detachment.
We passed through an interesting country, filled with wind-carven
pillars and minarets, eroded shelves and caverns, and lunched at
noonday beside a dozen boiling sulphur springs. We also passed
Canoncito, the little village which was the home of Jose Cordova.
As we came in sight of the tinned spires of the church at Jemez, we
heard a distinct murmur, and halted at once. In a moment the murmur
swelled into an unmistakable Indian war-whoop. It was plainly evident
the Dominicans had arrived before us.
As soon as I heard the war-whoop I told Sergeant Cunningham to bring
up the men as rapidly as possible, sticking to the travelled road,
and, accompanied by the agent and Corporal Frank, I put spurs to my
horse and dashed towards the town.
Our route was through the cultivated land, while that of the soldiers
was on the hard ground along the foot-hills. Ours was in a direct
line, over deep, soft earth, frequently crossed by irrigating ditches,
while theirs, although nearly treble the distance, was over firm soil
without a break.
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