Reveille always comes early; but that first morning in Fort Bayard it came _very_ early. The knowledge that we had reached "our haven of rest," after a five months' journey, made me want to sleep. I wished to feel sure that our tent was not to be struck directly after breakfast--that the bed would not be rolled up and tumbled into the army-wagon--that I should not have to creep into the ambulance, and ride, ride, ride, all that day again. But we had agreed to visit the great Santa Rita copper mines that day, in company with all the officers; and Charley was rapping at the tent, to say that breakfast was almost ready. We started directly after guard-mount: five officers, six men--who had been detailed as escort--and myself. We were all well mounted. My own horse, Toby--the swiftest and strongest of them all--was snow-white, with delicate, slender limbs, and tall, even for a cavalry horse. The camp was located in a valley, some four miles square; gently rising hills inclosed it on every side; beyond these, on one side, rose the San José Mountains, and, in an almost opposite direction, the Pinos Altos Range. All these hills and mountains were said to contain metal; copper and gold, and even cinnabar, could be found. And we were now making our way to the foot-hills, where the officers had promised to show us some rich leads they had discovered. We dismounted when we had reached the place; and some of the escort acting as guard against Indian "surprises," the rest were set to work, with picks and hatchets, to dig up specimens. They had not long to dig, for every rock they struck contained copper; and frequently the little specks of gold in it could be seen with the naked eye. But it must not be supposed that these hills were barren, or destitute of verdure. On the contrary, as far as the eye could reach, even the highest mountains were covered with grass, scrub-oaks, and cedars; while in the valley, and on the hills, there was one bright carpet of grass and wild flowers. The white tents in the valley, with the flag-staff in the centre, and the flag just moving in the morning breeze, the dark-green trees shading the tents, the stream of water (called by the captain Minne-ha-ha) running around the camp--all this looked so refreshing, so beautiful, after those long day's marches among the sand-hills of the Rio Grande, and the weary tramps over the burning deserts we had lately left behind us, that my enthusiasm rose to the highest pitch. "Why don't somebody claim this delightful country?--why don't people in the army resign, and own mines, and settle down here to live?" I asked--very irrationally, I am afraid.