The utter hopelessness of my isolation wore on me, driving me almost to madness, and visions of husband and child haunted my brain; sometimes they were full of hope and tauntingly happy; at others, I saw them dying or dead, but always beyond my reach, and separated by the impassable barrier of my probably lifelong captivity. In my weakened condition, the horrors of the stake, to which I felt myself borne daily nearer as they progressed on their homeward route, appeared like a horrid phantom. It had been threatened me since my first effort to escape, and I was led to believe such a punishment was the inevitable consequence of my attempt. The terrible heat of the days continued, and the road they took was singularly barren of water. The Indians, after drinking plentifully before starting, carry little sticks in their mouths, which they chew constantly, thus creating saliva, and preventing the parching sensation I endured from the want of this knowledge. The seventh night they entered a singular cañon, apparently well known to them, as they found horses there, which evidently had been left on a former visit. I could not but wonder at the sagacity and patience of these Indian ponies, which were content to wait their master’s coming, and browse about on the sparse herbage and meager grass. The Indians had killed an antelope that day, and a piece of the raw flesh was allotted me for a meal. They had then traveled in a circuitous route for miles, to reach the mouth of this cañon, and entered it just after sundown. Its gloomy shade was a great relief after the heat of the sun, and it filled my sensitive mind with awe. The sun never seemed to penetrate its depths, and the damp air rose around me like the breath of a dungeon. Downward they went, as if descending into the bowels of the earth, and the sloping floor they trod was covered with red sand for perhaps the space of half a mile. Then they struck a rocky pavement, the perpendicular walls of which were of earth; but as they made another turning and entered a large space, they seemed to change to stone with projecting arches and overhanging cornices. The high walls rose above the base so as to nearly meet overhead, and, with their innumerable juttings and irregularities, had the appearance of carved columns supporting a mighty ruin. Occasionally a faint ray of the fading light struggled with the gloom, into which they plunged deeper and deeper, and then their horses’ cautious feet would turn the bones of antelope or deer, drawn thither by the lurking wolf to feed the young in their lair. I was startled with dread at the sight, fearing that they might be human bones, with which mine would soon be mingled. The increasing darkness had made it necessary for the Indians to carry torches, which they did, lighting up the grotesque grandeur of earth and rock through which they passed by the weird glare of their waving brands.