_March 23d._ Again came morning with its fiery sun burning and drying everything. Breakfast was tasted, but not eaten. A committee from the company came to know what should be done. Col. Webb with one of our doctors and four men went off to Mier, to get out of the sun, for with all his boast of, "I live as my men live," he said he "should die in that sun." I was obliged to go back to Rio Grande City about our money, so I told the men that we had better wait and see what further money we could recover and how our health was likely to be. All acquiesced, and with Clement and Simson I left for Roma on my way to Rio Grande, where I recovered four thousand dollars more of our money; I still hoped to regain the balance, about seven thousand dollars, but it was never found. To tell of the dull monotony of this place would be most tedious, nearly as hard to think of as to endure. I found the officers of the camp my most sympathetic companions, Captain McCown, Dr. Campbell, Lieuts. Caldwell, Hazzard and Hayne, and Captain Deas. Four days of fruitless examinations passed, and one night I had made my blankets into a bed, and was trying to find a soft position for my weak and bony legs, when Clement came to tell me I was wanted in Judge Stakes's room; with Lieut. Browning I went over. At a circular table covered with books and papers, lighted by a single candle, sat Clay Davis, his fine half-Roman, half-Grecian head resting on his small, well shaped hand, his position that which gave us the full beauty first of his profile, then of full face; his long black hair with a soft wave in it gave wildness and his black moustache added to a slight sneer as he looked at a Mexican thief standing before him; he was altogether one of the most striking figures I have ever seen. Opposite was Judge Stakes, also a very handsome man, as fair in hair and complexion as Clay Davis was dark. Behind him stood Simson with his Vandyke head and peaked beard; he was in deep shadow, with arms folded, and head a little bowed, but his searching eyes fixed keenly on the prisoner. One step in advance stood Don Francisco putting question after question to the thief, a little further off stood three other rascals, their muscular arms tied, waiting "adjudication." On the other side, in the light, sat another Mexican holding the stolen property which had been recovered; and behind him a table with glasses, bottles and a demijohn. Lieut. Browning and I sat on a cot bed covered with a Mexican blanket, watching the whole scene, denials, confessions, accusations, threats, and one after another piece by piece was produced of our property. All the clothes were recovered, amid questions and oaths in Spanish and English, until we abandoned all hope of regaining anything more.