kettles half full, and to water part of the animals. Striking water was as if a great light had burst upon their darkness and gloom. The faith of the whole company was renewed.

Next day twelve picked men set out on a forced march ahead of the rest, to dig a well at Alamo Mocho, and have water ready for the arrival of the main corps. That night the Battalion camped without water, and it was not until the afternoon of the next day that they reached the well. The advance party had cleaned out the old well and had dug another. Despite all their anxious and arduous efforts they had obtained only a small quantity of very brackish water, which could not quench the thirst of either the men or animals. The mules had to be pulled away from the wells to get them to browse on their only forage, a scant growth of pungent sumach. About twenty bushels of mesquite seeds which the men had gathered along the Colorado, served to keep the animals alive.

Early the next morning an advance party of twenty-five started to the next well, Pozo Hondo, to dig for

water.

The Battalion had to abandon two more of their wagons which the jaded mules were unable to haul farther. That night they camped again without water. Their way lay through deep sand, with an occasional hard, smooth clay flat where neither wagons nor animals made tracks. In the sandy places there was evidence that immense herds of cattle and horses had recently been driven towards Sonora, probably to prevent them from falling into the hands of the Americans.

January fifteenth the Battalion marched seven miles to the Pozo Hondo wells. There was a rainbow in the sky, an unwonted sight in this arid desert. At the wells the

men were met by one of the guides who had been ahead making purchases. He brought into camp thirtyfive fresh mules and ten fat beefs. A beef was killed and eaten, which was a rare treat to the men who, since leaving Santa Fe had been living on the carcasses of worn out work oxen and scabby sheep.

There was but little water to be had at Pozo Hondo. The men halted only two hours, took up the march and traveled ten miles not stopping for camp until eleven that night. There was no water. The night, as usual, was extremely cold. The half naked men suffered much for the want of warm clothing. The cold benumbed their unprotected bodies so, that the period of rest found them unrefreshed. They suffered all the more from the cold at night because during the daytime, when they were toiling through deep sand, the weather was excessively hot. These extremes of temperature weakened and vitiated both men and beast.

By this time the men were nearly barefoot. Some wrapped rawhide around their feet. Others made themselves rude boots of ox skin. Whenever an ox was killed the skin from its legs was stripped off by cutting a ring around the hide above and below the gambrel joint. The lower end of this skin tube was then sewed together with sinews. The natural crook of the hide served to fit it fairly well to the shape of the human foot. Some of the men wrapped their feet in old sacks, rags, or in whatever they could get, to shield them from the scorching desert sands by day, and from the bitter night cold.

After three hours of cold, shivering, fitful sleep the men set out again, at two o'clock in the morning to travel twenty miles before they could reach the Cariza,-the first running water

found since leaving the Colorado. The march of the past five days was the most exhausting the Battalion had known. They had had the hottest days, the coldest nights, the heaviest sand to pull through, with less food than at any previous time during their march, and with practically no water. Many of the men became ill. A score or more of the mules gave out and had to be abandoned. The animals were almost dead from exhaustion, and to make bad matters worse at this point the guides got lost, and the Battalion traveled at least a mile out of its way. About noon of the sixteenth, the best teams reached the stream. All that afternoon and night the men, weakened

from hunger, thirst and fatigue, straggled into camp, or were brought in by their stronger comrades. During many hours these men had been unable to speak; their tongues were so swollen from thirst that they protruded from their mouths. With the murmur of the running water plainly audible, some were unable to drag themselves another hundred yards to it. They were carried to the stream, stripped of their ragged clothing, and their bodies immersed in the water for some time before it was considered safe to allow them to drink. They had now marched one hundred miles from the Colorado,-most of the way through deep desert sand. (To be continued)

Of all I see;

Note: As you have the study of Indian folklore in your association, I submit the rich story of the Apache leader, Geronimo. I met him at the St. Louis fair, a surly, cross looking, but keen witted, eagle eyed veteran of a thousand battles who had become a Christian and was entertaining visitors as the last of the great Apache warriors.-J. W. L.

No folklore is more interesting than that of the American Indian and that of the Indians of Arizona is no exception in richness of imagery, originality of thought, and vividness of expression. The most warlike tribe of America and one which caused so much trouble and expense for hundreds of years before they were conquered was

THE APACHE INDIANS

Geronimo, the last warring chief of the Apaches, tells the story of the origin of the Apache as follows:

"In the beginning the world was covered with darkness. There was no sun, no day. The perpetual night had no moon or stars. There were, however, all manner of beasts and birds. Among the beasts were many hideous, nameless monsters, as well as dragons, lions, tigers, wolves, foxes, beavers, rabbits, squirrels, rats, mice, and all manner of creeping things, such as lizards and serpents. Mankind could not prosper under such conditions, for the beasts and serpents destroyed all human offspring. All creatures had the power of speech and were gifted with rea

son.

There were two tribes of creatures, the birds, or the feathered tribe, and

the beasts. The former were organized under their chief, the eagle. These tribes often held councils and the birds wanted light admitted. This the beasts repeatedly refused to do. Finally the birds made war against the beasts.

"The beasts were armed with clubs, but the eagle had taught his tribe to use bows and arrows. The serpents were so wise that they could not all be killed. One took refuge in a perpendicular cliff of a mountain in Arizona and his eye changed into a brilliant stone which may be seen in that rock to this day. The bears when killed would each be changed into several other bears, so that the more bears the feathered tribe killed, the more there were. The dragon could not be killed, either, for he was covered with four coats of horny scales, and the arrows would not penetrate these. One of the most hideous, vile monsters was proof against arrows, so the eagle flew high up in the air with a round white stone and let it fall on this monster's head, killing him instantly. This was such a good service that the stone was called but the birds won the victory. sacred. They fought for several days

"After this war was over, although some evil beasts remained, the birds were able to control the councils, and light was admitted. Then mankind could live and prosper. The eagle was chief in this good fight; therefore his feathers are worn by man as emblems of wisdom, justice, and power.

"Among the few human beings that were yet alive was a woman who had

been blessed with many children, but these had always been destroyed by the beasts. If by any means she succeeded in eluding the others, the dragon, who was very wise and very evil, would come himself and eat her babes.

"After many years a son of the rainstorm was born to her and she

dug for him a deep cave. The en

trance to this cave she closed and over the spot built a camp fire. This concealed the babe's hiding place and kept him warm. Every day she would remove the fire and descend into the cave, where the child's bed was, to nurse him; then she would return and rebuild the camp fire.

"Frequently the dragon would come and question her, but she would say, "I have no more children; you have eaten them all."

"When the child was larger he would not always stay in the cave, for he sometimes wanted to run and play. Once the dragon saw his tracks. Now this perplexed and enraged the old dragon, for he could not find the hiding place of the boy; but he said he would destroy the mother if she did not reveal the child's hiding place. The poor mother was very much troubled; she could not give up her child, but she knew the power and cunning of the dragon, therefore she lived in constant fear.

"Soon after this the boy said that he wished to go hunting. The mother would not give her consent. She told him of the dragon, the wolves, and the serpents, but he said, "Tomorrów I go.'

"At the boy's request his uncle (who was the only man living), made a little bow and some arrows for him, and the two went hunting the next day. They trailed the deer far up the mountain and finally the boy killed the buck. His uncle showed him how to dress the deer and broil

the meat. They broiled two hind quarters, one for the child and one for the uncle. When the meat was done they placed it on some bushes to cool. Just then the huge form of the dragon appeared. The child was not afraid, but the uncle was so dumb with fright that he did not speak or

move.

"The dragon took the boy's parcel of meat and went aside with it. He placed the meat on another bush, and seated himself beside it. Then he said, "This is the child I have been seeking. Boy you are nice and fat, so that when I have eaten this venison I shall eat you.' The boy said, 'No, you shall not eat me, and you shall not eat that meat.' So he walked over to where the dragon sat and took the meat and brought it back to his own seat. The dragon said, 'I like your courage, but you are foolish, what do you think you could do?' 'Well,' said the by, I can do enough to protect myself, as you may find out.' Then the dragon took the meat again, then the boy retook it. Four times in all the dragon took the meat, and after replacing the meat the fourth time the boy said, 'Dragon, will you fight me?' 'Yes,' said the dragon, in whatever way you like.' The boy said, 'I will stand one hundred paces from you and you may have four shots at me with your bow and arrow provided that you will then exchange places with me and give me four shots.' 'Good,' said the dragon, 'Stand up.'

"Then the dragon took his bow, which was made of a large pine tree. He took four arrows from his quiver; they were made of young pine saplings, and each arrow was twenty feet long. He took aim, but just as the arrow left the bow the boy made a peculiar sound and leaped into the air. Immediately the arrow was shivered into a thousand

Our Hawaii by Charmian London. The Macmillan Company. The Godgiven place for a western honeymoon is the depth of some remote canyon but most western romantics long for Hawaii, especially in winter. Whether they are on a honeymoon or are just simple tourists in these Pacific islands they will find no more enthusiastic book about them than "Our Hawaii," by Mrs. Jack London. No woman ever adored her mate more than Mrs. Jack and so the book is full of an undying honeymoon spirit as well as packed with data about the islands themselves and their inhabitants. The Londons made three visits to the islands, went everywhere, knew everybody, and loved it all. They stayed for months at a time, ate poi with the natives, climbed mountains, rode surfboards, and became genuine lovers of the islands. The book is interesting in spite of Mrs. London's tortured, irritating style, due to her insane desire to employ unusual words. Her amazement is "birthed of the moment." Why not born? Square miles are "calculated confines." She uses "gentle" and other adjectives as verbs. You feel that she always wrote after consultation with a book of synonyms. All the same if you have any travel microbes in your soul you will enjoy the book.

Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington. Doubleday, Page and Company. This book has been a best seller ever since it first appeared in serial form in the "Pictorial Review" and last June

it inspired a new interest by receiving the Pulitzer prize at Columbia as the best American novel of the year. It

is the best novel that Mr. Tarkington has written, better even than the "Magnificent Ambersons" a previous prize winner. We all of us have known an Alice Adams in our town, or at least a girl with some of her characteristics. She is the kind of girl who is ahead of the styles, who thinks that men like affectation and pertness, who is always on the watch for people who may be useful to her and who has no scruples in using them when she gets a chance, in short, a cheap little climber of the most able and discreet variety. And yet you can't help liking her. You don't like any of her insincere actions but you do pity her for being bitten with cheap ambitions and for having to try so hard to win social recognition. The chapter on Alice as a wall flower is one of the most pathetic ever written. Of course Booth Tarkington, being Booth Tarkington and writing for the Pictorial Review, does not make a complete tragedy of the story but gives Alice a chance to display "some sense" and hints at marriage with a young man boarder. All of which could happen in the best regulated families.

Saint Teresa by Henry Sydnor Harrison, Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Getting married is the chief business of life for the unmarried and no one, better than Mr.

Harrison, can point the way through complications to the snug harbor of matrimony. In "Queed" he showed us how an attractive young woman may tame a bachelor who is "sot ticularly attractive way. In "V. V.'s in his way” and that, too, a not parEyes" the shoe is on the other foot and a frivolous maiden is brought