A Peccary Hunt on the Nueces. 355 



and pilot us to the game on the morrow, with the help of 

 his two dogs. The last were big black curs with, as we 

 were assured, " considerable hound " in them. One was 

 at the time staying at the ranch house, the other was four 

 or five miles off with a Mexican goat-herder, and it was 

 arranged that early in the morning we should ride down 

 to the latter place, taking the first dog with us and pro- 

 curing his companion when we reached the goat-herder's 

 house. 



We started after breakfast, riding powerful cow-ponies, 

 well trained to gallop at full speed through the dense 

 chaparral. The big black hound slouched at our heels. 

 We rode down the banks of the Nueces, crossing and 

 recrossing the stream. Here and there were long, deep 

 pools in the bed of the river, where rushes and lilies grew 

 and huge mailed garfish swam slowly just beneath the 

 surface of the water. Once my two companions stopped 

 to pull a mired cow out of a slough, hauling with ropes 

 from their saddle horns. In places there were half-dry 

 pools, out of the regular current of the river, the water 

 green and fetid. The trees were very tall and large. 

 The streamers of pale gray moss hung thickly from the 

 branches of the live-oaks, and when many trees thus 

 draped stood close together they bore a strangely mourn- 

 ful and desolate look. 



We finally found the queer little hut of the Mexican 

 goat-herder in the midst of a grove of giant pecans. On 

 the walls were nailed the skins of different beasts, rac- 

 coons, wild-cats, and the tree-civet, with its ringed tail. 

 The Mexican's brown wife and children were in the hut, 



