On the morning we left it was astonishing how quickly we got ready, and how lonesome the canvas city looked after the bugle sounded "strike tents." We marched out this fine morning with our banners flying, and the band playing "The Girl I Left Behind Me." There were no regrets, for the "beautiful Indian maiden" had not made a favorable impression on us, and we had our own little families at home. The Sixth Minnesota was in the rear, and we were hardly beyond the limits of the camp before the Indians had taken possession and commenced firing on our rear guard. The Colonel gave the necessary commands to bring us to a "right about," with orders to "commence firing." The orders came in quick succession, and were such a surprise to the Indians that they took to their heels with great alacrity. They hovered about us during all the day, but did not in the least retard us in our homeward march. We were instructed to supply ourselves with water before starting, because we must march eighteen miles, to Apple river bend, before we could get a fresh supply. The day was excessively warm, and the men became thirsty; but, behold! we look away, and a beautiful lake appears before us. "Water! water!" cry the thirsty men, and our canteens were soon empty, in anticipation of refilling them from the bosom of this beautiful lake before us. We march and thirst again, and the beautiful lake seems just as far away. "It's two miles to that lake," says one thirsty soul. We march the two miles, and yet are two miles away, and the thirst and heat are intolerable. "Surely that's water," said another, "but we don't seem to get any nearer to it." We marched and marched; but we must be in a valley, for the lake is out of sight. "When we get over the ridge we'll see the beautiful lake," comes from some one in the ranks. We got over the ridge, but the beautiful lake, in all its refreshing loveliness, had vanished. Had it evaporated, or had it sunk into the ground? Neither. We had been deceived,--it was a mirage! The air was hot, the earth parched, the throats dry, the canteens empty, and we were yet eight miles from water. Eight long, weary miles to go before we reach the bend in Apple river, but there was no help for it, and we bear to it with our soldier load. "Five miles farther," says the scout, and our hearts almost stop beating, we are so parched; three miles, and on we march; only one mile more, and we would run if we could. We reach the bank, and the Colonel commands: "Battalion, halt!" but the refreshing water is too near, and the famishing men make a run for it, and do not stop until they are in waist deep, and then they drink to their fill and replenish their canteens.