They at once sullenly
departed.
That evening, by the light of a brilliant moon, the dead Navajos were
buried upon a hill-top overlooking the town, amid the wailing of their
women and much ceremonious demonstration by the Jemez people, and
Frank and I retired for the night to the house of the hospitable
priest.
Early the following morning I held an inspection of the mules and
horses, and finding the wheel and swing spans were much exhausted by
the unaccustomed gait they had maintained in the forced march from the
valleys, I determined to give them a day's rest before making the
return trip. Finding Sergeant Cunningham's, Frank's, and my own horses
none the worse for their exertions, I concluded that we three would
return at once to camp. I placed Corporal Duffy in charge of the
party, and told him after one day had passed to return by way of the
hot springs.
Instead of returning by the route we came, the sergeant, Frank, and I
were to take a shorter and rougher one pointed out to us by Padre
Gutierrez. This trail was almost as straight as an arrow, but led
through a section of the country over which we had not scouted.
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