Suddenly the Major stopped, and in the darkness I could dimly see him take out his large white handkerchief, mop his brow and head, and then, with explosive force, but in a voice charged with deepest and sincerest feeling he broke the painful silence: "Thank God, the sun isn't shining." Brave-hearted, generous Major Williams! Not a word of reproach, no suggestion of blame. What a relief to my burdened soul. I was almost hysterical in my ready response. Yes, we could be thankful that our lives and limbs were spared. We were both unhurt. New horses and buckboard could be purchased, but life and health preserved called for thankfulness to the Divine Protector. Thus we congratulated ourselves as we slowly plodded along through the sand. Arrived at Mr. Voth's, we soon retired,--he in the bedroom prepared for him by kindly Mrs. Voth, I in my blankets outside. The calm face of the sky soon soothed my disquieted feelings and nerves, and in a short time I fell asleep. Not a thought disturbed me until just as the faintest peepings of dawn began to show on the eastern ridges, when, awakening, I heard a noise as of a horse shaking his harness close by. Like a flash I jumped up, and, in my night-robe though I was, rushed to the entrance to the corral. There, unharmed and uninjured, with harness upon them complete, the lines dangling down behind, the neck yoke holding them together, as if they were just brought from the stable ready to be hitched to the wagon, were the two horses which I had vividly pictured to myself as dashed to pieces upon the cruel rocks at the foot of one of the mesa precipices. I could scarcely refrain from shouting my joy. Hastily I dressed, and while dressing thought: "The horses are here; I'll go and hunt for the wagon." So noiselessly I hitched them to Mr. Voth's buckboard and drove off. When I came to the scene of the disaster, I found I could drive upon the rocky terrace. There was no difficulty in following the course of the runaways. Here was part of the seat, farther on some of the ironwork, and still farther the dashboard. At last I reached the overturned and dismantled vehicle. It was in a sorry state. Two of the wheels were completely dished, the seat and dashboard were "scraped" off, one whiffletree was broken, and the whole thing looked as if it had been rudely treated in a tornado. I turned it over, tied the wheels so that they would hold, and then, fastening it behind Mr. Voth's buckboard, slowly drove back to the house.