s many below. By
the latter the waggons came over, and it is the one chosen by the
hunters.

Crossing it, they continue on to the bluffs rising beyond, and ascend
these through a lateral ravine, the channel of a watercourse--which
affords a practicable pass to the plain. On reaching its summit they
behold a steppe to all appearance; illimitable, almost as sterile as
Saara itself. Treeless save a skirting of dwarf cedars along the
cliff's edge, with here and there a _motte_ of black-jack oaks, a
cluster of cactus plants, or a solitary yucca of the arborescent
species--the _palmilla_ of the Mexicans.

Withal, not an unlikely place to encounter the cattle with; hunched
backs, and shaggy shoulders. None are in sight; but hoping they soon
will be the hunters launch out upon the plain.

Till near night they scout around, but without seeing any buffalo.

The descending sun warns them it is time to return home; and, facing for
the bluff, they ride back towards it. Some three or four hundred yards
from the summit of the pass is a _motte_ of black-jacks, the trees
standing close, in full leaf, and looking shady. As it is more than
fifteen miles to the mission, and they have not eaten since morning,
they resolve to make halt, and have a sneck. The black-jack grove is
right in their way, its shade invites them, for the sun is still sultry.
Soon they are in it, their horses tied to trees, and their haversacks
summoned to disgorge. Some corn-bread and bacon is all these contain;
but, no better refection needs a prairie hunter, nor cares for, so long
he has a little distilled corn-juice to wash it down, with a pipe of
tobacco to follow. They have eaten, drunk, and are making ready to
smoke, when an object upon the plain attracts their attention. Only a
cloud of dust, and far off--on the edge of the horizon. For all that a
sign significant. It may be a "gang" of buffaloes, the thing they have
been all day vainly searching for.

Thrusting the pipes back into their pouches, they grasp their guns, with
eyes eagerly scanning the dust-cloud. At first dim, it gradually
becomes darker. For a whiff of wind has blown the "stoor" aside,
disclosing not a drove of buffaloes, but instead a troop of horses, at
the same time showing them to have riders on their backs, as the hunters
can perceive Indians.

Also that the troop is coming towards them, and advancing at such rapid
pace, that in less than twenty minutes after being des