Meantime, leaving the Mexican mountains and the alkali desert of the plateau behind them, they came to the Rio Grande, though farther west than their first pa.s.sage. Here they stopped and looked awhile at the stream, a large volume of water flowing in its wide channel of sand.
Phil felt emotion. Many and great events had happened since he saw that water flowing by the year before, and the miracle for which he hoped had been accomplished. To-day they were upon a quest other than his own, but they pursued it with an equal zeal, and he believed that all the omens and presages were in their favor.
They found a safe pa.s.sage through the sandy approaches, swam the river upon their horses, and stood once more upon the soil of Texas. Phil felt that they would have little more to do with Mexicans, but that they must dare the formidable power of the Comanches, which now lay before them.
They camped that night in chaparral, where they were well concealed and built no fire. The weather was quite warm again, save for those sudden but usually brief changes of temperature that often occur in West Texas.
But there was no sign of storm in the air, and they felt that their blankets would be sufficient for the night--however hot the day might be, the nights were always cool. Bill Breakstone had first beaten up the chaparral for rattlesnakes, and, feeling safe from any unpleasant interruption from that source, they spread out their blankets and lay comfortably upon them while they discussed the plan of their further march.
They felt quite sure that, with the pa.s.sage of American troops south, the Comanches had gone far to the westward. The Indians had already suffered too much from these formidable invaders to oppose their southward march. Besides, they had received definite information that both Santana and Black Panther with their bands had gone almost to the border of New Mexico. The sole question with the four was whether to search over a wide belt of territory at once, or to go straight westward until they struck the Rio Grande again.
"I favor the long trip before we begin the hunt," said Bill Breakstone.
"The chances are all in favor of the Comanches being out there. The buffalo herds, which will soon be drifting southward, are thickest in that part of the country."
Breakstone"s logic seemed good to the others, and the next morning they began the long march through a region mostly bare but full of interest for them all. They pa.s.sed a river which flowed for many miles on a bed of sand a half mile wide, and this sand everywhere was thick with salt.
From the bluffs farther back salt springs gushed forth and flowed down to the river.
Then they came upon the southern edge of the Great Staked Plain of Texas, known long ago to the Spaniards and Mexicans as the Llano Estacado. John Bedford, who was a little in advance, was the first to see the southern belt of timber. It had been discovered very soon that John"s eyes were the keenest of them all. He believed himself that they had been strengthened by his long staring through the loophole at the castle in order to make out every detail of his little landscape on the far mountainside. Now he saw a faint dark line running along the horizon until it pa.s.sed out of sight both to east and west. He called Breakstone"s attention to it at once, and the wise Bill soon announced that it was the southern belt of the Cross Timbers, the two parallel strips of forest growing out of an otherwise treeless country which for hundreds of miles enclose a vast plain.
"It"s the first belt," said Bill Breakstone, "and, while it"s not as near as it looks, we"re covering ground pretty fast, and we"ll strike the timber before nightfall. How good it looks to see forest again."
Even the horses seemed to understand, as they raised their heads, neighed, and then, without any urging from their masters, increased their pace. Phil rode up by the side of his brother John, and watched the belt of timber rise from the plain. He had often heard of this strange feature of the Texas wilds, but he had never expected to see it.
A little before nightfall they rode out of a plain, perfectly bare behind them for hundreds of miles, into the timber, which grew up in an arid country without any apparent cause, watered by no rivers or creeks and by no melting snows from mountains. Phil and John looked around with the greatest interest. The timber was of oak, ash, and other varieties common in the Southwest, but the oak predominated. The trees were not of great size, but they were trees, and they looked magnificent after the spa.r.s.e cottonwoods and bushes along the shallow prairie streams that they had pa.s.sed.
The foliage had already turned brown under the summer sun, but there was fresh gra.s.s within the shadow of the trees, upon which the horses grazed eagerly when they were turned loose. The four meanwhile rejoiced, and looked around, seeking a place for a camp.
"How long is this belt, Bill?" asked Phil of Breakstone.
"I don"t know, but maybe it"s a thousand miles. There"s two of them, you know. That"s the reason they call them the Cross Timbers. After you pa.s.s through this belt you cross about fifteen miles of perfectly bare plain, and then you come to the second belt, which is timbered exactly like this. One belt is about eight miles wide, the other about twelve miles wide, and, keeping an average distance of about fifteen miles apart, they run all the way from the far western edge of these plains in a southeasterly direction clean down to the Brazos and Trinity River bottoms, where they come together and merge in the heavy timber. It"s a most wonderful thing, Sir Philip of Buena Vista and Sir John of Montevideo, and it"s worthy of any man"s attention."
"It has mine, that"s sure," said Phil, as he walked about through the forest. "It"s an extraordinary freak of nature, but the roots of the two belts of timber must be fed by subterranean water, though it"s strange that they should run parallel so many hundreds of miles, always separated by that strip of dry country fifteen miles wide, as you say, Bill."
"I can"t account for it, Phil," replied Breakstone, "and I don"t try.
The people who don"t believe in queer things are those who stay at home and sit by the fire. I"ve roamed all my life, and I"ve had experience enough to believe that anything is possible."
"Look!" exclaimed Phil in delight. "Here"s our camp, just made for us!"
He pointed to a tiny spring oozing from beneath the roots of a large oak, flowing perhaps thirty yards and then losing itself beneath the roots of another large oak. It looked clear and fresh, and Phil, kneeling down and drinking, found it cold and delightful. Bill Breakstone did the same, with results equally happy.
"Yes, this was made for us," he said, confirming Phil"s words. "There are not many such springs that I ever heard of in the Cross Timbers, and our luck holds good."
They called the others, who drank, and after them the horses. It was an ideal place for a camp, and they felt so secure that they lighted a fire and cooked food, venison, and steaks of antelope and deer that they had shot by the way.
"It might be a good idea," said Breakstone, "to rest here in the shade a part of to-morrow. All of us have been riding pretty hard, and you know, Hans, old man, that if you go too fast you are not strong enough to do what you must do when you get there."
It was Arenberg whose feelings were now consulted most, and, when they looked at him for an answer, he nodded a.s.sent.
Hence they took some of their supplies from the pack horses, and made themselves more comfortable on the gra.s.s about the little spring.
Lengthy scouting, done by Arenberg and Breakstone, showed that there was no danger from Comanche, Lipan, or any other Indian tribes, and they could take their rest without apprehension. They also dared to build a fire for the cooking, a luxury which they enjoyed much, but which was usually dangerous in the Indian country. Fallen and dry timber was abundant, and when they had cooked a plentiful supply of venison and buffalo strips they fell to and ate with the appet.i.te which only life under the stars can give. By and by Bill Breakstone gazed at John in admiration. But John took no notice. He ate steadily on, varying the course with an occasional tin cup of water.
"Sir John Falstaff," said Bill Breakstone, "I"ve read a lot about you in Shakespeare, and on two or three memorable occasions I have played you.
You have been renowned two hundred and fifty years for your appet.i.te, and I want to tell you right now that your fame isn"t up to the real thing by half. Say, Sir John, they didn"t give you much to eat in that Castle of Montevideo, did they?"
"Tortillas, frijoles, tamales, tortillas, frijoles, tamales," replied John in a m.u.f.fled voice, as he reached for another delicate piece of fried deer.
"Go right on," said Bill Breakstone, "I"ve no wish to stop you. Make up for all the three years that you lost."
John, taking his advice, stuck to his task. Although imprisonment had greatly wasted him, it had never impaired his powerful and healthy const.i.tution. Now he could fairly feel his muscles and sinews growing and the new life pouring into heart and lungs.
After supper they lay upon their blankets in a circle, with their feet to the fire, and spoke of the land that stretched beyond the two belts of trees, the Great Staked Plain.
"We"ll find it hot," said Breakstone, "and parts of it are sandy and without water, but we should get through to the Rio Grande, especially as we have, besides the sand, a big region of buffalo gra.s.s; and then the land of gramma gra.s.s, in both of which we can find plenty of game.
Game and water are the things for which we must look. But we won"t talk of trouble now. It"s too fine here."
They spent the next day and the following night among the trees, and were fortunate enough to find in the oaks a number of fine wild turkeys which abounded in all parts of the Southwest. They secured four, and added them to their larder. The next day they rode through the belt, and across the twelve miles of bare country into the second belt, which was exactly like the first, with the oak predominating.
"Makes me think of the rings of Saturn," said Phil, as they entered the timber once more.
But they pa.s.sed the night only in the inner belt, and emerged the next morning upon the great plain that ran to the Rocky Mountains.
"Now," said Bill Breakstone, "we leave home and its comforts behind."
Phil felt the truth of his words. He understood now why the Bible put so much value upon wood and water. To leave the belt of trees was like going away from a wooded park about one"s house in order to enter a bleak wilderness. It was very hot after they pa.s.sed from the shade, and before them stretched the rolling plains once more, without trees, reaching the sky-line, and rolling on beyond it without limit. The sun was pouring down from a high sky that flamed like bra.s.s. Bill Breakstone caught the look on Phil"s face and laughed.
"You hate to give up an easy place, don"t you, Phil?" he said. "Don"t deny it, because I hate it just as much as you do. Arenberg alone forgets what lies before us, because he has so much to draw him on."
Arenberg was too far ahead to hear them. He always rode in advance now, and the place was conceded to him as a right. They pa.s.sed through a region of gramma gra.s.s which stood about three feet in height, and entered a stretch of buffalo gra.s.s, where little clumps of the gra.s.s were scattered over the brown plain.
"It doesn"t look as if great buffalo herds could be fed on tufts like that," said Phil.
"But they can be," said Bill Breakstone. "It looks scanty, but it"s got some powerfully good property in it, because cattle as well as buffalo thrive on it as they do on nothing else. We ought to see buffalo hereabouts."
But for two days after entering this short gra.s.s region they saw not a single buffalo. Antelope, also, were invisible, and they began to be worried about their supplies of food. Both Breakstone and Arenberg believed that there were hunting parties of Indians farther westward, and they kept a sharp watch for such dangerous hors.e.m.e.n, Fortunately they had been able to find enough water for their horses in little pools and an occasional spring, and the animals retained their strength.
Finally they encamped one evening by the side of a prairie stream so slender that it was a mere trickle over the sand. It also contained a slight taste of salt, but not enough to keep both men and horses from drinking eagerly.
After supper Phil took his rifle and walked up the little stream. It had become a habit with the four, whenever they camped, to look about for game. But they had been disappointed so often that Phil"s quest now was purely mechanical. Still he was alert and ready. The training of the wilderness compelled any one with wisdom to acquire such quant.i.ties quickly. He walked perhaps half a mile along the brook, which was edged here and there with straggling bushes, and at other points with nothing at all. It was twilight now, and suddenly something huge and brown rose up among a cl.u.s.ter of the dwarf bushes directly in Phil"s path. In the fading light it loomed monstrous and misshapen, but Phil knew that it was a lone bull buffalo, probably an old and evil-tempered outcast from the herd. He saw that the big brute was angry, but he was a cool hunter now, and, taking careful aim, he planted a bullet near the vital spot.
The buffalo, head down, charged directly at him, but he leaped to one side and, as the mortally stricken beast ran on, he reloaded and sent in a second bullet, which promptly brought him to earth.
Still practicing that wilderness caution which never allows a man"s rifle to remain unloaded, he rammed home a third bullet, and then contemplated his quarry, an enormous bull, scarred from fights and undoubtedly tough eating. But Phil was very happy. It was in this case not the pride of the hunter, but the joy of the commissary. Tough though this bull might be, there was enough of him to feed the four many a long day.
While he was standing there he heard the sound of running feet, and he knew that it was the others coming to the report of his shots. Bill Breakstone first hove into view.
"What is it, Phil?" he cried, not yet seeing the mountain of buffalo that lay upon the ground.
"Nothing much," replied Phil carelessly, "only I"ve killed a whole buffalo herd while you three lazy fellows were lying upon the ground playing mumble peg, or doing something else trivial. I"ll get you trained to work after awhile."
Breakstone saw the buffalo and whistled with delight. The four set to work, skinned him, and then began to cut off the tenderest parts of the meat for drying. This was a task that took them a long time, but fortunately the night was clear, with a bright moon. Before they finished they heard the howling of wolves from distant points, and Phil occasionally caught slight glimpses of slender dark forms on the plain, but he knew they were prairie wolves that would not dare to attack, and he went on with his work.
"They"ll have a great feast here when we leave with what we want," said Bill Breakstone. "They"re not inviting creatures, but I"m sorry for "em sometimes, they seem so eternally hungry."