But the chief event that day was buffaloes and not timber. They ran into a vast herd, traveling north with the spring, and killed with ease all they wanted. The bodies were cut up, and the wagons were filled with fresh meat. There was a momentary quandary about the hides, which they wished to save, a process that required immediate curing, but they were unwilling to stop for that purpose on the plain. Two of the scouts came in at sundown with news that the timber was only three or four miles ahead, and the whole train pushed forward, reaching it shortly after nightfall.
The wagons stopped just within the edge of the timber, but Phil, Breakstone, Arenberg, and Middleton rode on, the night being so clear and bright that they could see almost as well as by day. The first range of hills was low, but beyond lay others, rising perhaps two hundred feet above the level of the plain. The timber on all the hills and the valleys between was dense and heavy, embracing many varieties of hard wood, elm, hackberry, overcup, ash, pecan, and wild china. There were also the bushes and vines of the blackberry, gooseberry, raspberry, currant, and of a small fox grape, plentiful throughout the mountains of Texas. The fox grape grew on a little bush like that of the currant, and growing in abundance was another bush, from two to six feet in height, that would produce wild plums in the autumn.
"It's a good country, a fine country," said Bill Breakstone. "A man could live all the year around on the food that he would find in this region, buffalo and antelope on the plains, deer and maybe beaver in here, and all sorts of wild fruits."
Phil nodded. He was reveling in the hills and timber. The moonlight fell in a vast sheet of silver, but the foliage remained a solid mass of dark green beneath it. A tremulous little wind blew, and the soft sound of fresh young leaves rubbing together came pleasantly. A faint noise like a sigh told of a tiny stream somewhere trickling over the pebbles. Phil opened his eyes as wide as he could and drew in great gulps of the scented air. Big bronze birds, roused by the tread of the horsemen, rose from a bough, and flew away among the trees. They were wild turkeys, but the lad and his comrades were not seeking game just then. Bill Breakstone, who was in advance, stopped suddenly.
"Come here, Sir Philip of the Hilly Forest," he cried, "and see what uncle has found for his little boy."
Phil rode up by his side and uttered a little gasp of admiration. As he sat on his horse, he looked into a ravine about two hundred feet deep. Down the center of the ravine dashed a little mountain river of absolutely clear water. It was not more than twenty feet wide, but very deep. As Breakstone said, "it ran on its side," but it ran along with much murmur and splash and laughter of waters. Often as the swift current struck the stony sides of the ravine it threw up little cascades of foam like snow. The banks themselves, although of stone, were covered most of the way with clustering vines and short green bushes. The crest of the farther bank was wooded so heavily with great trees that they were like a wall. Farther down, the stream descended with increased swiftness, and a steady murmuring noise that came to them indicated a waterfall. The brilliant moonlight bathed the river, the hills, and the forest, and the great silence brooded over them all. Middleton and Arenberg also came, and the four side by side on their horses sat for awhile, saying nothing, but rejoicing in a scene so vivid and splendid to them, after coming from the monotony of the great plains.
"I'd like to drop off my horse after a hot day's ride," said Bill Breakstone, "and have some of that river run over me. Wouldn't that be a shower-bath for a tired and dusty man!"
"It's likely to be ice-cold," said Middleton.
"Why so?" asked Phil.
"Because it rises somewhere high up. There must be mountains to the northward, and probably it is fed most of the year by melting snows. I think Bill would have enough of his bath very quickly."