t. Ye've got punk, an' may make a fire o'
the sage-brush. I don't intend to run the risk o' sturvin' myself; an'
as I mayn't find any thin' on the way, I'll jest take one o' these
sweet-smellin' chickens along wi' me."

He has already re-loaded the rifle; and, once more pointing its muzzle
towards the sky, he brings down a second of the zopilotes.

"Now," he says, taking up the foul carcase, and slinging it to his belt,
"keep up your heart till this chile return to ye. I'm sure o' gettin'
back by the mornin'; an' to make sartint 'bout the place, jest you squat
unner the shadder o' yon big palmetto--the which I can see far enuff off
to find yur wharabouts 'thout any defeequelty."

The palmetto spoken of is, in truth, not a "palmetto," though a plant of
kindred genus. It is a _yucca_ of a species peculiar to the high table
plains of Northern and Central Mexico, with long sword-shaped leaves
springing aloe-like from a core in the centre, and radiating in all
directions, so as to form a spherical chevaux-de-frize. Its top stands
nearly six feet above the surface of the ground, and high over the
artemisias; while its dark, rigid spikes, contrasted with the frosted
foliage of the sage, render it a conspicuous landmark that can be seen
far off over the level plain.

Staggering on till he has reached it, Hamersley drops down on its
eastern side, where its friendly shadow gives him protection from the
sun, fervid, though setting; while that of Walt Wilder is still
projected to its full length upon the plain. Saying not another word,
with the rifle across his shoulder and the turkey buzzard dangling down
his thigh, he takes departure from the spot, striking eastward towards
the high land dimly discernible on the horizon.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A HUNTRESS.

"_Vamos_, Lolita! hold up, my pretty pet! Two leagues more, and you
shall bury that velvet snout of yours in the soft _gramma_ grass, and
cool your heated hoof in a crystal stream. Ay, and you shall have a
half peck of pinon nuts for your supper, I promise you. You have done
well to-day, but don't let us get belated. At night, as you know, we
might be lost on the Llano, and the wicked wolves eat us both up. That
would be a sad thing, _mia yegua_. We must not let them have a chance
to dispose of us in that manner. _Adelante_!"

Lolita is a mustang pony of clear chestnut colour, with white mane and
tail; while the person thus apostrophising her is a young