We saw, moreover, the bois de vache of the wild cattle. We would soon meet with one or the other.
We were still on the stream by which we had camped the night before, and we made a noon halt to refresh our animals.
The full-grown forms of the cacti were around us, bearing red and yellow fruit in abundance. We plucked the pears of the pitahaya, and ate them greedily; we found service-berries, yampo, and roots of the “pomme blanche.” We dined on fruits and vegetables of various sorts, indigenous only to this wild region.
But the stomachs of the hunters longed for their favourite food, the hump ribs and boudins of the buffalo; and after a halt of two hours, we moved forward through the openings.
We had ridden about an hour among chapparal, when Rube, who was some paces in advance, acting as guide, turned in his saddle and pointed downward.
“What’s there, Rube?” asked Seguin, in a low voice.
“Fresh track, cap’n; buffler!”
“What number; can you guess?”
“A gang o’ fifty or tharabout. They’ve tuk through the thicket yander-away. I kin sight the sky. Thur’s clur ground not fur from us; and I’d stak a plew thur in it. I think it’s a small parairia, cap.”
“Halt here, men!” said Seguin; “halt and keep silent. Ride forward, Rube. Come, Monsieur Haller, you’re fond of hunting; come along with us!”