og must pass him to get out, and he stands with his long
lance ready to receive it.

The animal sees himself intercepted, turns and runs back, and again
turning, makes a desperate rush to pass the vidette. As he nears the
latter, he utters a loud howl. The next moment he is impaled upon the
lance!

Several of us rush up the hill to ascertain if the howling has attracted
the attention of the savages. There is no unusual movement among them;
they have not heard it.

The dog is divided and devoured before his quivering flesh has time to
grow cold! The horse is reprieved.

Again we feed our animals on the cooling cactus. This occupies us for
some time. When we return to the hill a glad sight is before us. We
see the warriors seated around their fires, renewing the paint upon
their bodies.

We know the meaning of this.

The tasajo is nearly black. Thanks to the hot sun, it will soon be
ready for packing!

Some of the Indians are engaged in poisoning the points of their arrows.
All these signs inspire us with fresh courage. They will soon march;
if not to-night, by daybreak on the morrow.

We lie congratulating ourselves, and watching every movement of their
camp. Our hopes continue rising as the day falls.

Ha! there is an unusual stir. Some order has been issued. "Voila!"
"Mira! mira!" "See!" "Look, look!" are the half-whispered ejaculations
that break from the hunters as this is observed.

"By the livin' catamount, thar a-going to mizzle!"

We see the savages pull down the tasajo and tie it in bunches. Then
every man runs out for his horse; the pickets are drawn; the animals are
led in and watered; they are bridled; the robes are thrown over them and
girthed. The warriors pluck up their lances, sling their quivers, seize
their shields and bows, and leap lightly upon horseback. The next
moment they form with the rapidity of thought, and wheeling in their
tracks, ride off in single file, heading to the southward.

The larger band has passed. The smaller, the Navajoes, follow in the
same trail. No! The latter has suddenly filed to the left, and is
crossing the prairie towards the east, towards the spring of the Ojo de
Vaca.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

THE DIGGERS.

Our first impulse was to rush down the ravine, satisfy our thirst at the
spring, and our hunger on the half-polished bones that were strewed over
the prairie. Prudence, however, restrained us.

"Wait till they're clar gone