I lO Audubon's Western Journal 



about three o'clock, and the little streams we cross, 

 are most enchanting. The ride today was very 

 interesting. 



July 2d. We are leaving the mountains and I 

 dread the plains again, they are so monotonous. 

 We found some wild grapes, and, to us^ the most 

 matured were not sour. Liscomb was taken ill 

 today with dysentery, and we feared we should lose 

 him. Tone put him on his horse, the easiest we 

 had, and Carroll was most kind to him; we were 

 compelled to go on, but we gave him short rests 

 as frequently as we could. 



Gradually the plain narrowed, and as we neared 

 the ridge of mountains which bounds one side of 

 the valley of Santa Cruz, we passed the ruins of a 

 once beautiful Mission. It was a low, Gothic 

 style of architecture, built of yellowish white sand- 

 stone. 



We waited in the shade of the walls of Santa 

 Cruz to rest young Liscomb, and the main company 

 wound its way along to a rancho a few miles distant 

 where we could get corn for the horses and mules. 

 I did not have time to see enough of Santa Cruz to 

 describe it. Like all the towns of this part of the 

 country, it has the remains of strong walls, that 

 fifty years ago gave safety from the incursions of 

 the Indians. 



As the day cooled we took Liscomb on, and 

 crossed the Conchos River, called by the natives, 



