Cozens left Merilla, a town of Mexico, in company with three other gentlemen and a few servants, in June, 1858, with the intention of visiting first the copper mines of Santa Rita del Cobre, on the Rio Mimbres, and thence making his way into Arizona. Simple as this programme appears, its execution was fraught with great difficulty, owing to the hostility of the Apaches, a wild native race inhabiting the mountain fastnesses of the north of Spanish America. The party were riding happily along, after a careful examination of the mines, when the mule ridden by Mr. Laws showed signs of uneasiness. “There are evidently Indians near,” said Cozens; to which Dr. Steck, a second of his companions, replied, “If there are, they know better than to attack their Great Father,” the name by which he was himself called by the savages, among whom he had long been working. He was wrong! A few minutes later, a small cañon, or pass, was entered, with lofty rugged rocks on either side; and when retreat was impossible, the war-whoop of the Apaches suddenly rang out from above, and, echoing from side to side, filled every heart with horror. A moment’s pause, and then, spurring on their mules, the travelers endeavored to reach the mouth of the cañon, but, alas! even as they gained it, an arrow struck Laws in the back. He fell from the saddle dead, and the mule which had first given warning of the approaching catastrophe galloped riderless away. The survivors hastily retreated to a neighboring height, determined to sell their lives as dearly as they could; but though they waited an hour, revolvers in hand, for the arrival of the Indians, they were left unmolested. When the evening shadows lessened the risk, they returned to the spot where Laws had fallen, and, placing his corpse before them on their saddles, carried it with them to the summit of the highest hill within reach. There, by the light of the moon, a grave was dug, and poor Laws was buried. No stone or other memorial marked his resting-place, as it would but have served to ♦provoke the desecration of his remains. ♦ ‘provoked’ replaced with ‘provoke’ The next day the march was resumed, and, during an interesting trip among the lovely passes of the Mexican range, known as Los Organos, an adventure was met with, scarcely less exciting, though less tragical in its ending, than the encounter with the Apaches. The guide, who was a little in advance of the party he was escorting, suddenly pointed to a spot far up on the mountain, and observed laconically, “Yonder is the hole of a cinnamon bear.” It was at once resolved that the owner of the lofty cave should be compelled to show himself, and pay for that privilege with his life.