it could hardly be the ranch. As we
could do nothing with the boat, we concluded to walk over that way. It
was many miles distant. Taking everything we had, including our last
lunch, we started our walk, leaving a cloth on a pole to mark the
point where our boat was anchored. But after going four miles it still
seemed no nearer than before, so we returned. It was evening. The
water was drinkable again; that was something to be thankful for. By
ten o'clock that night the tide would come up again. After dark we
found that our boat was being beached. So we ran it down and began
pulling it along over a shoal reaching far out from the shore. As we
tugged I was sure I heard a call somewhere up the river. What kind of
a land was this! Could it be that my senses were all deceiving me as
my eyes were fooled by the mirage? I had heard it, Al had not, and
laughed when I said that I had. We listened and heard it again,
plainly this time, "Can't you men find a landing? We have a good one
up here," it said.

We asked them to row down, advising them to keep clear of the shoal.
We waded out, guided by their voices, in the pitch darkness and neared
the boat.

One shadowy form sat in either end of a flat-bottomed boat. There was
a mast, and the boat was fitted for two oarsmen as well. Evidently the
load was heavy, for it was well down in the water. The sail cloth was
spread over all the boat, excepting one end where there was a small
sheet-iron stove, with a pan of glowing wood coal underneath. The
aroma of coffee came from a pot on the stove. As I steadied myself at
the bow I touched a crumpled flag,--Mexican, I thought,--but I could
not see. Both figures sat facing us, with rifles in their hands, alert
and ready for a surprise. Smugglers! I thought; guns, I imagined. They
could not see our faces in the dark, neither could we distinguish
theirs. Judging by their voices they were young men. I thought from
the first that they were Mexicans, but they talked without accent.
They could see that we carried no arms, but their vigilance was not
relaxed. They asked what our trouble was and we told them of the
beached boat, what we had been doing, and why we were there. They said
they were out for a little sight-seeing trip down in the Gulf. They
might go to Tiburone Island. One of them wondered if it was true that
the natives were cannibals. He said he would not care about being
shot, but he would hate to be put in their stew-pot. We asked th