nine o'clock
It was miserable stuff -- thick , murky , and warm -- but it was better than nothing ; I sent a soldier back to the command , and sat down with Frank under the cliff to wait . The march had lengthened into thirty-two miles , over an exceedingly rough country , and it had been continuous , with no noonday rest , and under a broiling sun . Frank and I sat a little apart from the soldiers , watching for the arrival of the approaching wagons . Time dragged slowly on until after nine o'clock , when a faint `` hee-haw '' in the far distance gave us the first hint that the train was over the divide and that the unfailing scent of the mules had recognized the vicinity of water . An hour more passed before Sergeant Cunningham and half a dozen privates of the infantry company marched down to the roily pool and stooped for a drink . The rest of the men were straggling the length of the train , which arrived in sections , heralded by the vigorous and continued braying of the mules . No one felt inclined to pitch a tent , partly on account of extreme fatigue , but chiefly because the ground was rough and stony and cacti in endless variety strewed the surface , branching and clustering about the petrified trunks of giant trees which gave the creek its name .