The command was threatened by a great prairie fire on coming down into the broad grassy valley of the Janos. Under the impetus of a fierce wind the flames were rushing upon camp. There was not a moment to be lost. All hands turned out,--soldiers, scouts, squaws, Chiricahua warriors, and even children. Each bore a branch of willow or cotton-wood, a blanket, or scrap of canvas. The conflagration had already seized the hill-crest nearest our position; brownish and gray clouds poured skyward in compact masses; at their feet a long line of scarlet flame flashed and leaped high in air. It was a grand, a terrible sight: in front was smiling nature, behind, ruin and desolation. The heat created a vacuum, and the air, pouring in, made whirlwinds, which sent the black funnels of soot winding and twisting with the symmetry of hour-glasses almost to the zenith. For one moment the line of fire paused, as if to rest after gaining the hill-top; it was only a moment. “Here she comes!” yelled the men on the left; and like a wild beast flinging high its tawny mane of cloud and flashing its fangs of flame, the fire was upon, around, and about us. Our people stood bravely up to their work, and the swish! swish! swish! of willow brooms proved that camp was not to be surrendered without a struggle. We won the day; that is, we saved camp, herds, and a small area of pasturage; but over a vast surface of territory the ruthless flames swept, mantling the land with soot and an opaque pall of mist and smoke through which the sun’s rays could not penetrate. Several horses and mules were badly burned, but none to death.