The time had now come for us to begin our march to Arizona. Company F
had arrived, and the boy corporals were again in possession of their
beautiful horses. Grain, hay, and careful attendance had put new
graces into the ponies' shapes, and kind treatment had developed in
each a warm attachment for its young master.
The first day of our march was spent in crossing the Rio Grande del
Norte and making camp four miles beyond the opposite landing. There
was a ferry-boat at Los Pinos, operated by the soldiers of the post,
capable of taking over four wagons at a time.
We rose at an earlier hour than usual, and by daybreak our train of
eighty-nine wagons, drawn by five hundred and thirty-four mules, was
on its way to the river. The two boy corporals joined me as I followed
the last wagon. Mounted on their handsome animals, with carbines on
their right hips, revolvers in their belts, portmanteaus behind their
saddles, and saddle-pouches on each side, they were, indeed, very
warlike in appearance.
The two detachments of cavalry and their officers, accompanied by a
paymaster and a surgeon, proceeded at once to the river, crossed and
went into camp, leaving the infantry and its officers to perform the
labor of transferring, from one shore to the other, wagons and mules,
a herd of three hundred beef cattle, and a flock of eight hundred
sheep.
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