Chap. I. JOURNEY TO SAN ANTONIO. 433 
now as then. The first night I was obliged to run 
before the carriage for a considerable distance with a 
stearine candle in my hand, through a deep marsh, in 
order to find out the road, of which all trace had dis- 
appeared in the soft soil : this was near the coast. The 
road above Victoria was better; but the second night, 
and not far from San Antonio, the wheels on one side 
of the waggon, which had got a little off the road, 
together with one of the horses, sank into a peculiar 
muddy sand, overgrown with the grass of the prairie. A 
kind of dangerous quicksand lies under the turf, which 
I afterwards often observed in this part of Texas. We 
were obliged to seek help in the neighbourhood ; and 
eight men were hard at work for two hours before the 
carriage was again in motion. The coolness and equa- 
nimity which Americans show in such cases is admi- 
rable, and quite shames the European, at least the 
man from the continent. During the whole affair no 
loud words were heard ; no impatience was exhibited ; 
no unwillingness to assist. Early the next morning (the 
30th) we arrived at San Antonio. Here I learned what 
had befallen, during the three months of my absence, the 
small caravan with which I had started from Chihuahua. 
They had encamped in the prairie, a few miles from San 
Antonio : sickness had broken out among the mules, 
and carried off nineteen of the best animals ; and, after- 
wards, more died on the road. Several had been bitten 
by rattlesnakes, and saved with the greatest difficulty. The 
same thing happened to one of our drivers ; but a re- 
markable accident befel the waggon-master: he had 
crushed on his hand a little hairy caterpillar, which 
was crawling on it, and in a few minutes the most 
alarming symptoms appeared. A shiver ran from the 
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