be a short one. I
dared not traverse that plain in the darkness; I might ride over the
precipitous edge of the barranca. Besides, it was not the only one: I
saw there were others--smaller ones--the beds of tributary streams in
seasons of rain. These branched off diagonally or at right angles, and
were more or less deep and steep.

Night was fast closing over the prairie; I dared not ride farther amid
these perilous abysms. I must soon come to a halt, without finding
water. I should have to spend the long hours without relief. The
prospect of such a night was fearful.

I was still riding slowly onward, mechanically conducting my horse, when
a bright object fell under my eyes, causing me to start in my saddle
with an exclamation of joy. It was the gleam of water. I saw it in a
westerly direction, the direction in which I was going.

It proved to be a small lake, or--in the phraseology of the country--a
pond. It was not in the bottom of the ravine, where I had hitherto been
looking for water, but up on the high prairie. There was no timber
around it, no sedge; its shores were without vegetation of any kind, and
its surface appeared to correspond with the level of the plain itself.

I rode towards it with joyful anticipation, yet not without some
anxiety. Was it a _mirage_? It might be--often had I been deceived by
such appearances. But no: it had not the filmy, gauze-like halo that
hangs over the mirage. Its outlines were sharply defined by the prairie
turf, and the last lingering rays of the sun glistened upon its surface.
It _was_ water!

Fully assured of this, I rode forward at a more rapid rate.

I had arrived within about two hundred paces of the spot--still keeping
my eyes fixed upon the glistening water--when all at once my horse
started, and drew back! I looked ahead to discover the cause. The
twilight had nearly passed, but in the obscurity I could still
distinguish the surface of the prairie. The barranca again frowned
before me, running transversely across my path. To my chagrin, I
perceived that the chasm had made a sudden turn, and that the pond was
on its _opposite side_!

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A PRAIRIE DREAM.

There was no hope of crossing in the darkness. The barranca was here
deeper than at any point above; so deep that I could but indistinctly
see the rocky boulders at its bottom. Perhaps with the daylight I might
be able to find a crossing-place; but from that doubtful h