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 was flung over the bluff, and fell a distance of no less than three hundred feet into the abyss, clutching wildly at the rocks in a vain hope of saving himself. Presently, he tells us in his own account of the matter, the heel of his right boot hit the corner of a stone, he was thrown forward on his face, and as he flung up his arms to protect himself, one of his hands struck against something sharp. He grasped that something, and, clinging to it convulsively, lost consciousness.

SACRED SPRING AT ZUNI.

When he came to himself, he was lying on blankets, surrounded by his companions, who had had themselves lowered down the abyss over which he had fallen, and, finding him still breathing, had given signals to the Zunis watching above to hoist the sufferer up. This was done with the aid of cords as tenderly as possible, and Cozens was then carried to camp on the shoulders of the faithful Indians.

A long and tedious illness, through which he was faithfully nursed by his own people and the Zunis, followed, and in the long weary hours of weakness the white man learned more perhaps of the ways of the people than he could have done in weeks of hurried traveling. While he was still at Zuni, there took place one the worst tragedies enacted by the Apaches in