"You are right to speak of it," said Bill Breakstone. "I have been in the West. I have spent years there. I have been in places that no other white man has ever seen, and just when you think this West, beyond the white man's frontier, is most peaceful, then it is most dangerous. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, was a dreamy kind of fellow, but when the time came he was a holy terror."
Phil was impressed, but in a little while it seemed to him that it could scarcely be so. The threat contained in Black Panther's face was fading fast from his mind, and danger seemed to him very far. His exuberance of spirit was heightened by the easy journey that they now had through a forest without any undergrowth. The wagons rolled easily over short, young grass, and the thick boughs of the trees overhead protected them from the sun.
"Do you know the country, Bill?" asked Middleton.
"I think so," replied Breakstone. "Unless I'm mightily mistaken, and I don't think I am, this forest ends in four or five miles. Then we come right out on the genuine Texas plain, rolling straight; away for hundreds of miles. I think I'll take Phil here and ride forward and see if I'm not right. Come, Phil!"
The two galloped away straight toward the West, and, as the forest offered no difficulties, they were not compelled to check their speed. But in less than an hour Breakstone, who was in advance, pulled his horse back sharply, and Phil did the same.
"Look, Phil!" exclaimed Breakstone, making a wide sweep with his hands, while face and eyes were glowing, "See, it is Texas!"
Phil looked. None could have been more eager than he was. The hill seemed to drop down before them sheer, like a cliff, but beyond lay a great gray-green waving sea, an expanse of earth that passed under the horizon, and that seemed to have no limit. It was treeless, and the young grass had touched the gray of winter with fresh green.
"The great plains!" exclaimed Phil. He felt an intense thrill. He had at last reached the edge of this vast region of mystery, and to-morrow they would enter it.
"Yes, the great plains," said Bill Breakstone. "And down here, I think, is where our wagons will have to pass." He turned to the left and followed a gentle slope that led to the edge of the plains. Thus, by an easy descent, they left the forest, but when they turned back Phil's eye was caught by a glittering object:
"Look, Bill!" he exclaimed. "See the arrow! What does it mean?"