One day, in the early autumn, as the "Gila" touched at Ehrenberg, on her way down river, Captain Mellon called Jack¹ on to the boat, and, pointing to a young woman, who was about to go ashore², said: "Now, there's a girl I think will do for your wife. She imagines she has bronchial troubles, and some doctor has ordered her to Tucson. She comes from up North somewhere. Her money has given out, and she thinks I am going to leave her here. Of course, you know I would not do that; I can take her on down to Yuma, but I thought your wife might like to have her, so I've told her she could not travel on this boat any farther without she could pay her fare. Speak to her: she looks to me like a nice sort of a girl."  
In the meantime, the young woman had gone ashore and was sitting upon her trunk, gazing hopelessly about. Jack approached, offered her a home and good wages, and brought her to me.
 
I could have hugged her for very joy, but I restrained myself and advised her to stay with us for awhile, saying the Ehrenberg climate was quite as good as that of Tucson.
 
She remarked quietly: "You do not look as if it agreed with you very well, ma'am."
 
Then I told her of my young child, and my hard journeys, and she decided³ to stay until she could earn enough to reach Tucson.
 
And so Ellen became a member of our Ehrenberg family. She was a fine, strong girl, and a very good cook, and seemed to be in perfect health. She said, however, that she had had an obstinate⁴ cough which nothing would reach, and that was why she came to Arizona. From that time, things went more smoothly⁵. Some yeast⁶ was procured⁷ from the Mexican bakeshop, and Ellen baked bread and other things, which seemed like the greatest luxuries to us. We sent the soldier back to his company at Fort Yuma, and began to live with a degree of comfort.
 
I looked at Ellen as my deliverer, and regarded her coming as a special providence⁸, the kind I had heard about all my life in New England, but had never much believed in.
 
After a few weeks, Ellen was one evening seized with a dreadful toothache, which grew so severe that she declared she could not endure it another hour: she must have the tooth out. "Was there a dentist in the place?"
 
I looked at Jack: he looked at me: Ellen groaned⁹ with pain.
 
"Why, yes! of course there is," said this man for emergencies; "Fisher takes out teeth, he told me so the other day."
 
Now I did not believe that Fisher knew any more about extracting teeth than I did myself, but I breathed a prayer to the Recording¹⁰ Angel, and said naught¹¹.
 
"I'll go get Fisher," said Jack.
 
Now Fisher was the steamboat agent. He stood six feet in his stockings, had a powerful physique and a determined¹² eye. Men in those countries had to be determined; for if they once lost their nerve, Heaven save them. Fisher had handsome black eyes.
 
When they came in, I said: "Can you attend to this business, Mr. Fisher?"
 
"I think so," he replied, quietly. "The Quartermaster says he has some forceps."
 
I gasped¹³. Jack, who had left the room, now appeared, a box of instruments in his hand, his eyes shining with joy and triumph.
 
Fisher took the box, and scanned it. "I guess they'll do," said he.
 
So we placed Ellen in a chair, a stiff barrack chair, with a raw-hide seat, and no arms.
 
It was evening.
 
"Mattie, you must hold the candle," said Jack. "I'll hold Ellen, and, Fisher, you pull the tooth."
 
So I lighted the candle, and held it, while Ellen tried, by its flickering¹⁴ light, to show Fisher the tooth that ached.
 
Fisher looked again at the box of instruments. "Why," said he, "these are lower jaw¹⁵ rollers, the kind used a hundred years ago; and her tooth is an upper jaw."
 
"Never mind," answered th............