own into the stream bed with the plan to attack us at our
night camp. Evidently they had not expected us to camp so early, and
were jogging easily along through the brush, for once off their guard.
But for George's chance start for the stream, nothing but faithful old
Curly's perpetual watchfulness could have saved us from a bad mix-up
that night. Already it had been so well proved that we could safely
trust Curly to guard us against surprise, we slept soundly through the
night, without disturbance of any sort.

The next forenoon's march to the head waters of the Alamo was an
anxious one, and was made with the utmost caution, for we were sure the
Lipans would be lying in wait for us; but no sign of them did we again
see for three weeks.

Leaving the Alamo, we made a great circle through the desert, swinging
first north toward the Sierra Mojada, then south, and ultimately
eastward toward Monclova. The trip proved to be one of great hardship
and danger, but only from scarcity of water; for while at isolated
springs we found recent camps of one sort of desert prowler or another,
we neither met nor saw any. Finally, late one night of the fourth
week, we reached a little spring called Zacate, out in the open plain
only about thirty miles south of Musquiz. But between us and only five
miles south of the town stretched a tall range through which Tomas knew
of only two passes practicable for horsemen; one, to the west, via the
Alamo, the route we had come, would involve a journey of eighty miles,
while by the other, an old Indian and smugglers' trail crossing the
summit directly south of Musquiz, we could make the town in thirty-two
miles. The latter route Tomas strongly opposed as too dangerous.
Twelve miles from where we lay it entered the range, and for fifteen
miles followed terrible rough canons wherein, every step of the way, we
should be right in the heart of the recent range of the Lipans, and
where every turn offered chance of a perfect ambush. But with our
horses exhausted, worn to more shadows from long marches through
country affording scant feed, with not one left that could much more
than raise a trot, we finally decided to chance the shorter route.
That night we supped on cold antelope meat and biscuits, to avoid
building a fire, and rolled up in our blankets, but not to rest long
undisturbed.

Shortly after midnight Curly roused us with low growls. Though the
moon was full, the night was so clouded on