find any traces of him.

We had now reached the confines of a dreary region, sixty miles in
extent, called "The Sands," in comparison with which the prairie and
chaparal were luxurious.

The sand being deep and the wind high, we could not trace the carriage;
but we soon acquired a certainty that our perfidious Jehu had decamped,
leaving us behind.

We floundered about in the sand, cursing our bad luck, cursing Mr
Sargent, and even the good Magruder, as the indirect cause of our
wretchedness. Our situation, indeed, was sufficiently deplorable. We
were without food or water in the midst of a desert: so were our horses,
which were nearly done up. Our bones ached from the Mexican saddles;
and, to complete our misery, the two rangers began to turn restive and
talk of returning with the horses. At this, the climax of our
misfortunes, I luckily hit upon a Mexican, who gave us intelligence of
our carriage; and with renewed spirits, but very groggy horses, we gave
chase.

But never did Mr Sargent's mules walk at such a pace; and it was 9 A.M.
before we overtook them. My animal had been twice on his head, and
M'Carthy was green in the face with fatigue and rage. Mr Sargent
received us with the greatest affability; and we were sensible enough
not to quarrel with him, although M'Carthy had made many allusions as to
the advisability of shooting him.

We had been nine and a half hours in the saddle, and were a good deal
exhausted. Our sulky Texan guides were appeased with bacon, coffee, and
$5 in coin.

We halted till 2 P.M., and then renewed our struggle through the deep
sandy wilderness; but though the services of the Judge's horse were put
into requisition, we couldn't progress faster than two miles an hour.

Mule-driving is an art of itself, and Mr Sargent is justly considered a
_professor_ at it.

He is always yelling--generally imprecations of a serio-comic
character. He rarely flogs his mules; but when one of them rouses his
indignation by extraordinary laziness, he roars out, "Come here, Judge,
with a big club, and give him h----ll." Whilst the animal is receiving
such discipline as comes up to the judge's idea of the infernal regions,
Mr Sargent generally remarks, "I wish you was Uncle Abe, I'd make you
move, you G----d d----n son of a ----." His idea of perfect happiness
seems to be to have Messrs Lincoln and Seward in the shafts. Mules
travel much better when other mules are in front of them; and another
dodge