Chapter Thirteen.
Three Buffaloes with Wings.
Our travellers next morning resumed their journey, and for several days continued on without meeting any incident worth recording. They crossed many large streams, among which may be mentioned the Neches and Trinity of Texas.
On the “divide,” between the Trinity and Brazos rivers, an adventure befell them that came near having a painful result.
In hot weather it was their custom to halt during the noon hours, both to refresh themselves and rest their animals. This is the custom of most travellers through these wild regions, and is called “nooning.”
With this intention, one day, they drew bridle by the edge of a tract of prairie, and dismounted. Behind them was the forest through which they had just passed, and before them lay the prairie, which they intended to cross in the cool of the evening. The surface of the latter was quite level, covered with a green mantle of young buffalo-grass, with here and there an island of low timber that broke the monotony of the view. In the distance a thick forest of live oak bounded the prairie on the other side; and although the latter appeared only two or three miles distant, it was not less than ten—so deceptive is the pure atmosphere of these upland regions. The country in which they now were was what is termed “timber prairie”—that is, a prairie interspersed with groves and copses.
I say our adventurers had just dismounted, and were about to take off their saddles, when an exclamation from François drew the attention of his brothers.
“Voilà!” cried he, pointing out to the open ground. “Buffaloes—buffaloes!”