THE TEXAN HUNTRESS, 289 
tails stuck straight in air, go lumber away over the shaking 
plain—but nothing like human form appeared. The first 
madness had passed off—the instinct of the love of life had 
assumed its place, and the blurred vision had become intensi- 
fied by the sharpening apprehension which the physical 
brought, of thirst, hunger and exhaustion. 
I saw objects clearly now. Every line in the horizon was 
distinctly defined, and conveyed to me a sort of hope. All 
things, indecd, took their relations again, and I was unfright- ~ 
ened into calm. I knew my danger, in detail, and saw every 
blade of grass that marked my way towards—what? I heard 
the odd ejaculation of the long-necked blue cranes explode 
upon tke silonce like a distant pistol shot—I saw the flowers 
bend, and the meadow lark, with its dark feather-heart out- 
side its musical breast, bound up from the grass with its low 
fluttering flight, to sing on wing most sweetly, of all joy, 
though filled with fear. The very sand rat that had darted 
with a faint squeak to its hole, I saw peep forth again as I 
went past, so minutely did my vision take in everything now. 
I had ridden on for several hours, the country at each 
moment becoming still more strange. There were no objects 
in which I could detect the slightest degree of familiarity— 
my horse was beginning to fail, and dreading lest he would 
give out beneath me, I reined him up. This would, indeed, 
be a fate too terrible to contemplate—being left on foot in 
the midst of these great plains! I got down and stroked his 
panting sides and walked with him for an hour, until he 
seemed to be regaining his strength somewhat, for the morn- 
ing’s work had been tremendous, as I in my unrecking 
despair, had kept him urged to nearly the top of his speed 
during this foolish ride. Fortunately, he was one of those 
game and indomitable horses formed by crossing the mustang, 
which is an Arab, upon the larger-boned Northern horse, or 
he could never have survived such a run. 
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