24 
BURNING PRAIRIE.—NORTHER.—DEER CREEK. 
to learn our strength, and the probability of being able to stampede our mules. We treated 
the man kindly, gave him something to eat and some presents. He understood a few Comanche 
words ; and, with the aid of expressive signs, Vincente conversed with him easily. We obtained, 
therefore, a portion of the Hueco vocabulary, and then would have let him go, hut he preferred 
to accompany us. 
After travelling about five miles, our progress was suddenly arrested by a burning prairie. 
The grass was tall, thick, and dry. Thg wind had driven the widespread flames over the crest 
of a hill, directly towards us ; and they now came leaping into the air, roaring in the distance, 
and crackling fearfully as they approached. There seemed to he no safety except in flight. 
The train, therefore, countermarched in double quick time, and took refuge behind a watery 
ravine, where the grass was too green to burn freely. Taking advantage of a comparatively 
hare spot, the flames were fought, and a temporary opening made, through which the train 
passed to the black-burned prairie, which we traversed in safety. Mile after mile we trod 
nothing hut cinders. The Cross Timbers occasionally disappeared. The country became nearly 
level, and to the edge of the horizon presented a Avoodless, waterless, desolate field of black 
ashes. Here and there were solitary clumps of withered grass nourishing burning embers. It 
was a dreary prospect for the hungry mules, and Ave began to fear lest the Indians had adopted 
this means of accomplishing our destruction. At last some ravines appeared which had inter¬ 
rupted the flames, and protected fine fields of grass. By the edge of one containing large pools 
or springs of Avater we encamped, having travelled sixteen miles. A shoAver occurred during 
the afternoon. The evening was stormy and cold, rendering a fire indispensable for comfort. 
A single dead alamo, the only tree within sight, Avith a feAv Ioav shrubs, furnished a scanty pit¬ 
tance of wood; and as the clouds and wind destroyed all hopes of obtaining astronomical obser¬ 
vations, Ave early sought warmth under the covering of our blankets. 
Atigust 2V —Camp 27.—Last night Ave were aroused by a confusion of sounds. A fierce 
“norther” was upon us, with wind, rain, and sleet. The Avhole camp seemed in an uproar; 
some shouting, some laughing, and others making the ground quake Avitli blows of mallets, 
driving their tent-pins. After much ado, and a thorough drenching in the sleet, a feAv of our 
tents were preserved standing. Many were less fortunate, and morning disclosed a ludicrous 
assemblage of miserable half-frozen a retches, quietly shivering under prostrate canvass. There 
were puddles of water within and over their beds, and all were glad to avail themselves of the 
first light of day to stretch their benumbed limbs. The poor mules, gaunt with hunger and 
shrivelled with cold, Avere huddled together with their faces turned from the blast; but having 
been driven into the ravine, where they were partially sheltered from the storm, they grazed 
Avhile we breakfasted. Then, seeing no escape from freezing but by exercise, we harnessed up 
and faced the tempest. Our Hueco guest, poor fellow, suffered terribly, eA r en with the additional 
blankets that Ave loaned him; so, without compliments, at the dawn of day he took up his bed 
and departed. We did not see him again. 
Recommencing our march, the long line of Cross Timbers soon varied the landscape. Gypsum 
appeared upon the surface of the prairie. Hot far beyond, we entered the lovely valley of Deer 
creek, which bears the clear sweet waters of numerous tributaries to the Canadian. These 
rivulets are well-wooded, and irrigate Avide valleys; which, for grazing or agricultural purposes, 
can scarcely be excelled. The soil is a rich loam, which makes the banks of the streams miry 
and difficult to cross. Having travelled, therefore, about fourteen miles, we encamped in a 
pleasant nook, bordering Deer creek. Upon the hill behind is an Indian village, not long 
since deserted. BeloAv is a break in the thick border of timber that lines the creek; and here, 
deep-furrowed trails show a regular buffalo crossing. The river is rapid, clear, tAvo and a half 
feet in depth, and six feet AAude. Upon either hand, stately oaks cast deep shadows on tangled 
shrubs and flowers, and the mules grazing in the meadows are nearly concealed by the luxuriant 
grass. 
The norther AA r as broken at midday. At sunset the wind ceased, hut clouds arose; so that 
