openings, we came out on
the edge of a prairie of considerable extent. It was full three miles
in diameter, and differed altogether from the plain we had left behind
us. It was of the kind known in hunter phraseology as a
"weed-prairie"--that is, instead of having a grassy turf, its surface
was covered in a thick growth of flowering-plants, as _helianthus,
malvas, altheas, hibiscus_, and other tall annuals standing side by
side, and frequently laced together by wild-pea vines and various
species of convolvulus. Such a flower-prairie was the one now before
us, but not a flower was in sight; they had all bloomed, faded, and
fallen--perhaps unseen by human eye--and the withered stalks, burned by
a hot sun, looked brown and forbidding. They tracked and broke at the
slightest touch, their seed-pods shelling their contents like rain upon
the loose earth.

Instead of striking across this prairie, we skirted around its edge; and
at no great distance arrived on the banks of the arroyo.

We had made but a short march; but my companions, fearful that a longer
ride might bring on fever, proposed to encamp there for the night, and
finish our journey on the following day. Though I felt strong enough to
have gone farther, I made no objection to the proposal; and our horses
were at once unsaddled and picketed near the banks of the arroyo.

The stream ran through a little bottom-valley covered with a sward of
grass, and upon this we staked our steeds; but a better place offered
for our camp upon the higher ground; and we chose a spot under the shade
of a large locust-tree, upon the edge of the great wilderness of weeds.
To this place we carried our saddles, bridles, and blankets, and having
collected a quantity of dead branches, kindled our camp-fire.

We had already quenched our thirst at the stream, but, although we were
all three hungry enough, the dried flesh of the grizzly bear proved but
a poor repast. The rivulet looked promising for fish. Garey had both
hooks and line in his "possible sack," and I proposed the angle.

The young trapper soon baited his hooks; and he and I, repairing to the
stream, cast our lines, sat down, and waited for a nibble.

Fishing was not to Rube's taste. For a few minutes he stood watching
us, but evidently with little interest, either in the sport, or what it
might produce. Rube was not a fish-eater.

"Durn yur fish!" exclaimed he at length: "I'd ruther hev a hunk o'
deer-meat than all