head of his bed, Guadalupe got in a successful stroke which severed St. John's arm midway between elbow and shoulder. Bringing the rifle into play, he knocked the axe from Guadalupe's hands, and the other two having gained their feet, all three made their escape through the gateway. The action lasted from ten to twenty seconds. As St. John's left arm was disabled, the bone being severed, he dropped the rifle and reached for his pistol from the holster on his saddle, which he was using as a pillow. The Mexicans, hearing the gun drop, attempted to re-enter the corral, when St. John fired one shot, upon which they decamped. Owing to the wound in his hip, St. John's right hip was disabled so that he could not follow outside for further shots. St. John bound up his wounds as well as he could, climbed to the top of some sacks of barley where he could command a view over the walls, and, pistol in hand, waited for daylight. Two of his companions not being killed outright, were moaning deeply. When light enough to see St. John got down from his perch, and went to Cunningham, who had three cuts on his head, evidently inflicted by Guadalupe with the broad axe-he was unconscious, but occasionally groaning. Laing had one wound immediately on the top of his head, severing the skull in twain, from which the brain was protruding. He was alive and partly conscious, as he made attempts to rise. Bonifacio evidently inflicted the wound with the chopping axe. St. John crept outside to where Hughes was lying, and found his head completely crushed by a blow from the stone sledge. His death was instan

taneous. St. John found that moving about caused the blood to flow freely from his wounds. He made a torniquet with a handkerchief, stone and stick, which stopped the flow of blood from his left arm, but the wound in his hip, being full width of the axe-blade, was more difficult to control, but by keeping still the blood coagulated and stopped the hemorrhage. All day Thursday, he lay there enduring the groans of his companions whom he was powerless to aid. It was very hot during the day, no water in the corral; he was feverish from his wounds, and suffered much from thirst. Thursday night the coyotes were attracted by the smell of the wounds, and their barking and howling made a pandemonium, which was added to by the braying of the hungry mules. About midnight, St. John heard the death rattle in Cunningham's throat. Friday dawned; with light came flocks of buzzards, crows and magpies, who alighted on the walls and rafters the roof was not on yet. St. John, waving his arm, kept them from coming into the corral. They, however, mutilated the face of Hughes who lay outside. This night was also made hideous by the starving animals, and increased number of wolves, who appeared to be fighting among themselves. When they came to the gate, St. John fired on them with his revolver, which kept them at bay. With daylight Saturday morning, they left, but the buzzards returned. This, the third day, seemed to St. John almost interminable, while his thirst was torturing. Laing was yet alive, moaning feebly, but not attempting to move. This night, the wolves were more bold and attacked Hughes'

body, fighting and quarrelling over it not more than ten feet from where St. John lay. An occasional pistol shot kept them from entering the enclosure. With Sunday morning came relief. Mr. Archibald, correspondent for the Memphis Avalanche, arrived from Tucson on his way to the Rio Grande. Seeing no flag flying and no one moving about the station, he halted a half mile distant, leaving his horse with his companion, and approached with his gun cocked. St. John could not respond to his halloas as his tongue and throat were disabled from thirst. Archibald at once started for the spring, a mile distant up the canyon. He had no sooner left than three wagons of the Leach road party approached from the East. They, too, seeing no life about the station, left the road and made a detour about half a mile to the south-fearing an ambuscade. Then they cautiously approached the corral on foot. In the party were Col. James B. Leach, Major N. H. Hutton and some other veterans, who quickly dressed St. John's wounds, which were full of maggots. They buried the bodies of Hughes and Cunningham in one grave. Laing still hung to life tenaciously although nothing could be done for him he died on Monday.

"An express was started for Fort Buchanan by way of Tucson, as the direct route was not deemed safe for two men. They reached the fort on Wednesday following. The doctor, Asst. Surgeon B. J. D. Irwin, started at once with an escort and reached Dragoon on Friday morningthe ninth day after St. John was wounded. The arm was amputated at the socket. Six days

afterward, St. John got into a wagon and rode to the fort; five days later he was able to walk about, and ten days thereafter, being twenty-one days from the operation, was able to mount a horse and ride to Tucson. A remarkably quick recovery from such severe wounds." (For an account of the operation upon St. John, and his recovery, see Surgeon's report, American Journal of Medical Science, October, 1859.)

The Butterfield route was fully established in 1858, but was discontinued towards the close of the year 1860 on account of Indian depredations, and the almost certainty of war between the States.

The establishment of the Butterfield route, over which was run a tri-weekly stage for a distance of two thousand miles, through an Indian country, over rough, natural roads, was a triumph that cannot be too highly praised. Through the wild Indian country, particularly the latter portion, which Cochise and Mangus Colorado claimed as their territory, it was extremely hazardous, and was made mostly during the night. Of course there were occasional interruptions in the regular traffic; now and then stages were held up and their occupants killed and the stock driven off, but, considering the hazardous undertaking, the success attending can be considered as little short of marvelous.

The first stage left St. Louis September 15, 1858, being followed by a second the next day; the latter being necessary to handle the accumulation of mail. Both arrived in San Francisco October 10th, twenty-five days out in the one case, twenty-four in the other; thus inaugurating

the first transcontinental mail and passenger line on which continuous travel was kept up. Although the contract allowed them twenty-five days on the road, after the first few trips, the time was much shortened. It was divided into eight divisions and arranged as follows:

Miles.

1. Tipton, Mo. to Ft. Smith, Ark.21812 2. Ft. Smith, Ark. to Colbert's Ferry (now Dennison, Texas).

3. Colbert's Ferry to Ft. Chad

Hrs.

49

.192

38

7. Ft. Yuma to Los Angeles....282 8. Los Angeles to San Francisco. 462

721/4

80

This schedule was adhered to with remarkable accuracy. During 18 months the stage arrived at San Francisco late but three times. During the months of January and February, 1859, the two coaches, one from St. Louis, westbound, and the other from San Francisco, eastbound, met at the middle of the route near El Paso within three hundred yards of the same spot. Deducting time lost at stations, in changing horses, feeding passengers, crossing ferries, etc., this schedule required an average rate of five and onehalf miles per hour, or one hundred and ten miles a day. The best time ever made from one terminus to the other was twenty-one days, twenty-three hours, the incentive being some spe