Our route lay across the central deserts of Sonora, until we arrived on
the banks of the Rio Grande, and so afraid were they of falling in with
a hostile party of Apaches, that they took long turns out of the general
track, and through mountainous passes, by which we not only suffered
greatly from fatigue, but were very often threatened with starvation.
It was sixty-three days before we crossed the Rio Grande at Christobal,
and we had still a long journey before us. This delay, occasioned by the
timidity of our guards, proved our salvation. We had been but one day on
our march in the swamp after leaving Christobal, when the war-whoop
pierced our ears, and a moment afterwards our party was surrounded by
some hundred Apaches, who saluted us with a shower of arrows.
Our Mexican guards threw themselves down on the ground, and cried for
mercy, offering ransom. I answered the war-whoop of the Apaches,
representing my companions and myself as their friends, and requesting
their help and protection, which were immediately given. We were once
more unbound and free.
I hardly need say that this was a most agreeable change in the state of
affairs; for I have no doubt that had we arrived at our destination, we
should either have been gibbeted or died (somehow or other) in prison.
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