Shortly after six, our pack train arrived.  I had not seen it before, and a good right I had to be astonished.  We had nineteen serving men and twenty-six pack mules!  It was a perfect caravan.  It looked like one, too, as it wound among the rocks.  I wondered what in the very mischief we wanted with such a vast turn-out as that, for eight men.  I wondered awhile, but soon I began to long for a tin plate, and some bacon and beans.  I had camped out many and many a time before, and knew just what was coming.  I went off, without waiting for serving men, and unsaddled my horse, and washed such portions of his ribs and his spine as projected through his hide, and when I came back, behold five stately circus tents were up—­tents that were brilliant, within, with blue, and gold, and crimson, and all manner of splendid adornment!  I was speechless.  Then they brought eight little iron bedsteads, and set them up in the tents; they put a soft mattress and pillows and good blankets and two snow-white sheets on each bed.  Next, they rigged a table about the centre-pole, and on it placed pewter pitchers, basins, soap, and the whitest of towels —­one set for each man; they pointed to pockets in the tent, and said we could put our small trifles in them for convenience, and if we needed pins or such things, they were sticking every where.  Then came the finishing touch—­they spread carpets on the floor!  I simply said, “If you call this camping out, all right—­but it isn’t the style I am used to; my little baggage that I brought along is at a discount.”

It grew dark, and they put candles on the tables—­candles set in bright, new, brazen candlesticks.  And soon the bell—­a genuine, simon-pure bell —­rang, and we were invited to “the saloon.”  I had thought before that we had a tent or so too many, but now here was one, at least, provided for; it was to be used for nothing but an eating-saloon.  Like the others, it was high enough for a family of giraffes to live in, and was very handsome and clean and bright-colored within.  It was a gem of a place.  A table for eight, and eight canvas chairs; a table-cloth and napkins whose whiteness and whose fineness laughed to scorn the things we were used to in the great excursion steamer; knives and forks, soup-plates, dinner-plates—­every thing, in the handsomest kind of style.  It was wonderful!  And they call this camping out.  Those stately fellows in baggy trowsers and turbaned fezzes brought in a dinner which consisted of roast mutton, roast chicken, roast goose, potatoes, bread, tea, pudding, apples, and delicious grapes; the viands were better cooked than any we had eaten for weeks, and the table made a finer appearance, with its large German silver candlesticks and other finery, than any table we had sat down to for a good while, and yet that polite dragoman, Abraham, came bowing in and apologizing for the whole affair, on account of the unavoidable confusion of getting under way for a very long trip, and promising to do a great deal better in future!