THE TEXAN HUNTRESS. 298 
early sunlight upon my eyes waked me to a sense of pain, 
weakness, and astonishment, amounting almost to fright—for 
stooping over me was one of the most unexpectedly strange 
figures that it had ever been my fortune yet to encounter. 
“ He’s coming-to—the poor boy !” 
This was spoken in a tone that startled me for some reason 
—I did not know what—entirely apart from the circum- 
stances, and the unexpectedness of hearing a human voice at 
all, after and amidst such scenes. I looked up. What a fu. e! 
Storm-seamed and bronzed, it was clearly a woman’s bust— 
2 woman’s face!—that leaned over and looked kindly down 
upon me from beneath a sort of half cap and half hood of 
fawn’s skin, with the spotted hair turned out. 
“You are not wanting of a wet bed to make you grow—my 
green youngster! What in the Lord’s name brought you 
here, child ?”” ; 
The sort of half-grim pleasantry with which this was spolen, 
as I opened my eyes fully upon her, relieved to some de.ree 
my startled feeling of apprehension, and I faltered out feebly,, 
with an attempt at cleverness :— 
“T suppose I was blown here—or fell from the clouds!” 
She assisted me to a sitting posture with her strong hand. 
“Nonsense! nonsense, boy !—your own foolish hastiness 
brought you here! get up!—Ah! I see you cannot rise yet! 
But you are hungry, perhaps !—I’ll give you a slice of-a+ fine 
a buck as ever was killed, and the taste of which one w uld 
think you ought to know!” 
She drew forward a small wallet of dressed skin that was 
slung behind her singular costume of the same material, and 
took from it some pieces of roasted venison, with which she 
presented me. As I clutched them with a half-famishing 
eagerness, a low, quiet laugh from this personage caused me 
to look up at her again with a droll feeling of curiosity, which 
even excessive hunger could not repress. 
“Taste it, boy! taste it! He! he! he!—you ought tc 
