weary,
wounded horses struggled on against the cold, blue flood that boiled and swept about them.
At last my spent horse touched a reach of sand far below, that made a shoal from shore, and I again looked back. I saw but one figure now. The brave and fearless warrior had gone down pierced by a dozen balls.
My horse refused to go further, but stood bleeding and trembling in the water up to his breast, and I managed to make land alone. I crept up the bank, clutching the long wiry grass and water-plants. I drew myself up and sat down on the rocks still warm from the vanished sunshine.
When I had strength to rise, I went up the warm grassy river-bank, peering through the tules in an almost hopeless search for my companions. Nothing was to be seen. The troops on the other bank had gone away, not knowing, perhaps not caring, what they had done. The deep, blue river gave no sign of the tragedy now. All was as still as the tomb. I stole close and slowly along the bank. I felt a desolation that was new and dreadful in its awful solemnity. The bluff of the river hung in basaltic columns a thousand feet above my head; only a narrow little strip of grass, and tules, and reeds and willows, nodding, dipping, dripping, in the swift, strong river. Not a bird flew over, not a cricket called from out the long grass. u Ah, what an ending is this !" I said, and sat down in despair. My eyes were riveted on the river. Up and down on the
