heless, as evinced by human sign observable upon the
stream's bank, just below where the lateral ravine leads down. There
the cliffs diverging, and again coming near, enclose a valley of ovoidal
shape, for the most part overgrown with pecan-trees. On one side of it
is a thick umbrageous grove, within which several tents are seen
standing. They are of rude description, partly covered by the skins of
animals, partly scraps of old canvas, here and there eked out with a bit
of blanket, or a cast coat. No one would mistake them for the tents of
ordinary travellers, while they are equally unlike the wigwams of the
nomadic aboriginal. To whom, then, do they appertain?

Were their owners present, there need be no difficulty in answering the
question. But they are not. Neither outside, nor within, is soul to be
seen. Nor anywhere near. No human form appears about the place; no
voice of man, woman, or child, reverberates through the valley. Yet is
there every evidence of recent occupation. In an open central space,
are the ashes of a huge fire still hot, with fagots half-burnt, and
scarce ceased smoking; while within the tents are implements, utensils,
and provisions--bottles and jars of liquor left uncorked, with stores of
tobacco unconsumed. What better proof that they are only temporarily
deserted, and not abandoned? Certainly their owners, whether white men
or Indians, intend returning to them.

It need scarce be told who these are. Enough to say, that Coyote Creek
is the head-quarters of the prairie pirates, who assaulted the San Saba
settlement.

Just as the sun is beginning to decline towards the western horizon,
those of them sent on ahead arrive at their rendezvous; the chief, with
Chisholm and the other three, not yet having come up.

On entering the encampment, they relieve their horses of the precious
loads. Then unsaddling, turn them into a "corral" rudely constructed
among the trees. A set of bars, serving as a gate, secures the animals
against straying.

This simple stable duty done, the men betake themselves to the tents,
re-kindle the fire, and commence culinary operations. By this, all are
hungry enough, and they have the wherewithal to satisfy their appetites.
There are skilful hunters among them, and the proceeds of a chase, that
came off before starting out on their less innocent errand, are seen
hanging from the trees, in the shape of bear's hams and haunches of
venison. These taken do