es
above its confluence with the Colorado is a ford, by which the right
side may be reached at low water. Luckily it is now at its lowest, and
the waggons are got across without accident, or any great difficulty.

Once on the southern side, there is nothing to obstruct or further delay
them. Some ten miles above is the abandoned mission-house, which they
expect to reach that day, before going down of the sun.

With perhaps one exception, the emigrants are all happy, most of them in
exuberant spirits. They are nearing a new home, having long ago left
the old one behind; left also a thousand cankering cares,--many of them
more than half a life spent in struggles and disappointments. In the
untried field before them there is hope; it may be success and
splendour; a prospect like the renewing of life's lease, the younger to
find fresh joys, the older to grow young again.

For weeks has the San Saba mission-house been the theme of their
thoughts, and topic of discourse. They will re-people the deserted
dwelling, restore it to its pristine splendour; bring its long neglected
fields under tillage--out of them make fortunes by the cultivation of
cotton.

There is no cloud to darken the horizon of their hopes. The toilsome
journey is nearly at an end, and rejoicingly they hail its termination.
Whether their train of white tilted wagons winds its way under shadowing
trees, or across sunlit glades, there is heard along its line only
joyous speech and loud hilarious laughter.

So go they on, regardless about the future, or only thinking of it as
full of bright promise. Little do they dream how it may be affected by
something seen upon the cliffs above, though not seen by them. At the
point they have now reached, the bottom-land is several miles wide, with
its bordering of grim bluffs rising on either flank, and running far as
eye can see. On the left side, that they have just forsaken, not upon
the river's bank, but the cliff far back, is a cloud. No darkness of
the sky, or concentration of unsubstantial vapour. But a gathering on
the earth, and of men; who, but for their being on horseback, might be
mistaken for devils. In Satan's history the horse has no part; though,
strange to say, Satan's sons are those who most affect friendship for
the noble animal. Of the horsemen seen hovering above the San Saba
there are in all twenty; most of them mounted upon mustangs, the native
steed of Texas, though two or three bes