270 IN THE OLD WEST 



urging them on by dint of loud cries and objurga- 

 tions, rode six mountaineers, keeping as much as 

 possible in a line. Two others were on each flank 

 to repress all attempts to wander, and keep the 

 herd in a compact body. In this order the cara- 

 van had been crossing a broken country, up and 

 down ridges, all day, the animals giving infinite 

 trouble to their drivers, when a loud shout from 

 the advanced guard put them all upon the qui-vive. 

 Old Walker was seen to brandish the rifle over 

 his head and point before him, and presently the 

 cry of "The trail! the trail!" gladdened all 

 hearts with the anticipation of a respite from the 

 harassing labor of mule-driving. Descending a 

 broken ridge, they at once struck into a distinct 

 and tolerably well-worn track, into which the 

 cavallada turned as easily and instinctively as if 

 they had all their lives been accustomed to travel 

 on beaten roads. Along this they traveled mer- 

 rily their delight being, however, alloyed by 

 frequent indications that hunger and thirst had 

 done their work on the mules and horses of the 

 caravans which had preceded them on the trail. 

 They happened to strike it in the center of a long 

 stretch of desert, extending sixty miles without 

 either water or pasture; and many animals had 

 perished here, leaving their bones to bleach upon 

 the plain. The soil was sandy, but rocks and 

 stones covered the surface, disabling the feet of 

 many of the young horses and mules, several of 



