ert, although our horses sank to the very knee in the sand, we
were obliged to cross; night came on before the passage was effected,
and we were quite tired with the fatigues of the day. We were, however,
fortunate enough to find a cool and pure stream of running water, on the
opposite side of which the prairie had been recently burnt, and the
fresh grass was just springing up; here we encamped.

We started the next morning, and ascended a high ridge; we were in great
spirits, little anticipating the horrible tragedy in which we should
soon have to play our parts. The country before us was extremely rough
and broken; we pushed on, however, buffeting, turning, and twisting
about until nearly dark, crossing and recrossing deep gullies, our
progress in one direction impeded by steep hills, and in another by
yawning ravines, until, finally, we encamped at night not fifteen miles
from where we had started in the morning. During the day, we had found
large plum patches, and had picked a great quantity of this fruit, which
we found sweet and refreshing after our toil.

On the following morning, after winding about until noon among the
hills, we at length reached a beautiful table land, covered with
musqueet trees. So suddenly did we leave behind us the rough and uneven
tract of country and enter a level valley, and so instantaneous was the
transition, that the change of scenery in a theatre was brought forcibly
to our minds; it was turning from the bold and wild scenery of Salvator
Rosa to dwell upon the smiling landscape of a Poussin or Claude Lorrain.

On starting in the morning, nothing was to be seen but a rough and
rugged succession of hills before us, piled one upon another, each
succeeding hill rising above its neighbour. At the summit of the
highest of these hills, the beautiful and fertile plain came suddenly to
view, and we were immediately upon it, without one of us anticipating
anything of the kind. The country between the Cross Timbers and the
Rocky Mountains rises by steps, if I may so call them. The traveller
journeying west meets, every fifty or sixty miles, with a ridge of high
bills; as he ascends these, he anticipates a corresponding descent upon
the opposite side, but in most instances, on reaching this summit, he
finds before him a level and fertile prairie. This is certainly the
case south of the Red River, whatever it may be to the northward of it.

We halted an hour or two on reaching this bea