the fish in Texas. I'll jest see ef I kin scare up
somethin; the place looks likely for deer--it do."

So saying, the old trapper shouldered his long rifle, and stalking off
up the bank, was soon out of sight.

Garey and I continued bobbing with but indifferent success.

We had succeeded in drawing out a couple of cat-fish, not the most
palatable of the finny tribe, when the crack of Rube's rifle sounded in
our ears. It seemed to come from the weed-prairie, and we both ran up
on the high bank to ascertain what success had attended the shot.

Sure enough, Rube was out in the prairie, nearly half a mile distant
from the camp. His head and shoulders were just visible above the tall
stalks of the helianthus; and we could see, by his stooping at
intervals, that he was bending over some game he had killed, skinning or
cutting it up. The game we could not see, on account of the interposed
culms of the weeds.

"A deer, I reck'n," remarked Garey. "Buffler don't often o' late years
stray so far to the southert, though I've killed some on the Grande,
higher up."

Without other remark passing between us, we descended to the arroyo, and
recommenced our fishing. We took it for granted that Rube did not
require any aid, or he would have signalled to us. He would soon return
with his game to the camp.

We had just discovered that silver-fish (a species of _hyodori_) were
plentiful in the stream, and this kept our attention fixed. We were
desirous of taking some of them for our dinner, knowing them to be
excellent eating, and far superior to the despised "cat."

Having changed our bait for some small pieces of gold-lace, which my
uniform furnished, we succeeded in pulling several of these beautiful
creatures out of the water; and were congratulating one another upon the
delicious broil we should have, when our conversation was suddenly
interrupted by a crackling noise, that caused both of us to turn our
faces towards the prairie.

The sight that met our eyes prompted us to spring simultaneously to our
feet. Our horses already reared upon their lazoes--neighing with
affright--and the wild screams of Rube's mustang-mare were loud and
continuous. There was no mystery about the cause; that was obvious at a
glance. The wind had blown some sparks among the dry flower-stalks.
The weed-prairie was on fire!

Though startled at the first sight of the conflagration, for ourselves
we had nothing to fear. The bottom on which