to eat,--especially to people in our circumstances; and as soon as
we had finished our breakfast, Cudjo and I whetted our knives, and
having removed the skin, hung up the carcass alongside the remainder of
the antelope. The dogs for their pains had a breakfast to their
satisfaction; and the rest of us, seeing so much fresh meat hanging to
the tree, with a cool stream of water running beneath it, began to fancy
we were quite delivered from the Desert.

"We now sat down together to deliberate on our future proceedings.
Between the argali and the antelope, we had provision enough to last us
for a week at least; but when that was done, what likelihood was there
of our procuring a further supply of either? Not much, thought we; for
although there might be a few more antelopes and a few more `bighorns'
about the place, there could not be many with so little appearance of
anything for them to feed upon. Moreover, we might not find it so easy
to kill any more of them,--for those we had already shot seemed to have
fallen in our way by chance, or--as we more properly believed at the
time and still believe--by the guiding of a Providential hand. But we
knew it was not right or wise to rely altogether on this,--that is, we
knew it was our duty, while trusting in its guidance, at the same time
to make every effort which lay in our own power to save ourselves. When
our present supply should be exhausted, where was the next to come from?
We could not always live upon armadilloes, and argalis, and
antelopes,--even supposing they were as plenty as the rocks. But the
chances were ten to one we should get no more of them. Our ox in a week
would have improved in condition. He would sustain us for a time; and
then--our horse--and then--and then--the dogs--and then--we should
starve to a certainty.

"Any of these necessities was sufficiently fearful to contemplate.
Should we kill our ox, we would be unable to take the wagon along, and
how could the horse carry us all out of the Desert? If we then killed
the horse, we should be still worse off, and utterly helpless on foot.
No man can cross the Great Desert on foot--not even the hunters--and how
could we do it? To remain where we were would be impossible. There
were a few patches of vegetation on the different runlets that filtered
away from the mountain-foot. There were clumps of willows growing along
these, but not enough of grass to support any stock of game upon which
we coul