t to travel further. There is no
call for haste. They are _en route_ to bury the bones of a dead man,
not to rescue one still living.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

A BRILLIANT BAND.

Just as the Texan Rangers are approaching the Staked Plain on its
eastern edge, another body of horsemen, about their equal in number,
ascends to the same plateau, coming from the very opposite direction--
the west.

Only in point of numbers, and that both are on horseback, is there any
similitude between the two troops. Individually they are unlike as
human beings could be; for most of those composing the Texan party are
great, strapping fellows, fair-haired, and of bright complexions;
whereas they coming in the counter direction are all, or nearly all,
small men, with black hair and sallow visage--many of them dark as
Indians. Between the horses of the two troops there is a proportionate
disparity in size; the Texans bestriding animals of nearly sixteen hands
in height, while they approaching from the west are mounted on Mexican
mustangs, few over fourteen. One alone at their head, evidently their
leader, rides a large American horse. In point of discipline the second
troop shows superiority. It is a military organisation _pur sang_, and
marches in regular formation, while the men composing it are armed and
uniformed alike. Their uniform is that of Mexican lancers, very similar
to the French, their arms the same. And just such are they; the lancers
of Colonel Uraga, himself at their head.

Having crossed the Rio Pecos bottom, and climbed up the bluffs to the
higher bench of the Llano Estacado, they strike out over the sterile
plain.

As it is early morning, and the air is chilly, they wear their ample
cavalry cloaks of bright yellow cloth. These falling back over the
flanks of their horses, with their square lancer caps, plumed, and
overtopped by the points of the pennoned lances, give them an imposing
martial appearance. Though it is but a detachment of not over fifty
men--a single troop--riding by twos, the files stretch afar in shining
array, its sheen all the more brilliant from contrast with the sombre
sterility of the desert.

A warlike sight, and worthy of admiration, if one knew it to be an
expedition directed against the red pirates of the plains, _en route_ to
chastise them for their many crimes--a long list of cruel atrocities
committed upon the defenceless citizens of Chihuahua and New Mexico.
But knowing it is