mentioning.
We traveled slowly, hardly making an average day's drive. The third
morning Flood left us, to look out a crossing on the Arroyo Colorado.
On coming down to receive the herd, we had crossed this sluggish bayou
about thirty-six miles north of Brownsville. It was a
deceptive-looking stream, being over fifty feet deep and between bluff
banks. We ferried our wagon and saddle horses over, swimming the loose
ones. But the herd was keeping near the coast line for the sake of
open country, and it was a question if there was a ford for the wagon
as near the coast as our course was carrying us. The murmurings of the
Gulf had often reached our ears the day before, and herds had been
known, in former years, to cross from the mainland over to Padre
Island, the intervening Laguna Madre being fordable.

We were nooning when Flood returned with the news that it would be
impossible to cross our wagon at any point on the bayou, and that we
would have to ford around the mouth of the stream. Where the fresh and
salt water met in the laguna, there had formed a delta, or shallow
bar; and by following its contour we would not have over twelve to
fourteen inches of water, though the half circle was nearly two miles
in length. As we would barely have time to cross that day, the herd
was at once started, veering for the mouth of the Arroyo Colorado. On
reaching it, about the middle of the afternoon, the foreman led the
way, having crossed in the morning and learned the ford. The wagon
followed, the saddle horses came next, while the herd brought up the
rear. It proved good footing on the sandbar, but the water in the
laguna was too salty for the cattle, though the loose horses lay down
and wallowed in it. We were about an hour in crossing, and on reaching
the mainland met a vaquero, who directed us to a large fresh-water
lake a few miles inland, where we camped for the night.

It proved an ideal camp, with wood, water, and grass in abundance, and
very little range stock to annoy us. We had watered the herd just
before noon, and before throwing them upon the bed ground for the
night, watered them a second time. We had a splendid camp-fire that
night, of dry live oak logs, and after supper was over and the first
guard had taken the herd, smoking and story telling were the order of
the evening. The camp-fire is to all outdoor life what the evening
fireside is to domestic life. After the labors of the day are over,
the men gather around