ates to the
crossing of the Red Sea by Moses and his Israelites.

The Spanish monk stood on the river's bank, his eyes fixed despairingly
on its deep rapid-running current, which he knew he could not cross
without danger of being drowned. Just at this crisis he saw the waters
separate; the current suddenly stayed, and the pebbly bed showing dry as
a shingle!

Tucking his gown under his girdle, he struck into the channel; and, no
doubt, making good time--though the legend does not speak of this--he
succeeded in planting his sandalled feet, dry shod, on the opposite
shore! So far the Texan story closely corresponds with the Mosaic.
Beyond, the incidents as related, are slightly different. Pharaoh's
following host was overwhelmed by the closing waters. The pursuing
Comanches did not so much as enter the charmed stream; which, with
channel filled up, as before, was running rapidly on. They were found
next morning upon the bank where they had arrived in pursuit, all dead,
all lying at full stretch along the sward, their heads turned in the
same direction, like trees struck down by a tornado!

Only the Omnipotent could have done this. No mortal hand could make
such a _coup_. Hence the name which the Spaniards bestowed upon the
present Colorado, _Brazos de Dios_--the "Hand of God." Hence also the
history, or rather fable, intended to awe the minds of the rebellious
redskins, and restore them to Christanity, or serfdom.

Which it did not; since from that day the _misiones_ of San Saba
remained abandoned, running into ruin.

It is to one of these forsaken establishments Colonel Armstrong is
conducting his colony; his future son-in-law having purchased the large
tract of territory attached to it.

To that spot, where more than a century ago the monks made halt, with
cross borne conspicuously in one hand, and sword carried surreptitiously
in the other, there is now approaching a new invasion--that of axe and
rifle--neither ostentatiously paraded, but neither insidiously
concealed.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

A CLOUD ON THE CLIFFS.

After a long toilsome journey through Eastern Texas, the emigrant train
has reached the San Saba, and is working its way up-stream. Slowly, for
the bottom-land is in some places heavily timbered, and the road
requires clearing for the waggons.

The caravan has entered the valley on the left, or northern, bank of the
river, while its point of destination is the southern; but a few mil