The plain across which the freebooters are now journeying, on return to
what they call their "rendyvoo," is one of a kind common in
South-western Texas. An arid steppe, or table-land, by the Mexicans
termed _mesa_; for the most part treeless, or only with such
arborescence as characterises the American desert. "Mezquite," a name
bestowed on several trees of the acacia kind, "black-jack," a dwarfed
species of oak, with _Prosopis_, _Fouquiera_, and other spinous shrubs,
are here and there found in thickets called "chapparals," interspersed
with the more succulent vegetation of _cactus_ and _agave_, as also the
_yucca_, or dragon-tree of the Western Hemisphere.
In this particular section of it almost every tree and plant carries
thorns. Even certain grasses are armed with prickly spurs, and sting
the hand that touches them; while the reptiles crawling among them are
of the most venomous species; scorpions and centipedes, with snakes
having ossified tails, and a frog furnished with horns! The last,
however, though vulgarly believed to be a batrachian, is in reality a
lizard--the _Agama cornuta_.
This plain, extending over thirty miles from east to west, and twice the
distance in a longitudinal direction, has on one side the valley of the
San Saba, on the other certain creeks tributary to the Colorado. On one
of these the prairie pirates have a home, or haunt, to which they retire
only on particular occasions, and for special purposes. Under
circumstances of this kind they are now _en route_ for it.
Its locality has been selected with an eye to safety, which it serves to
perfection. A marauding party pursued from the lower settlements of the
Colorado, by turning up the valley of the San Saba, and then taking
across the intermediate plain, would be sure to throw the pursuers off
their tracks, since on the table-land none are left throughout long
stretches where even the iron heel of a horse makes no dent in the dry
turf, nor leaves the slightest imprint. At one place in particular,
just after striking this plain from the San Saba side, there is a broad
belt, altogether without vegetation or soil upon its surface, the ground
being covered with what the trappers call "cut-rock," presenting the
appearance of a freshly macadamised road. Extending for more than a
mile in width, and ten times as much lengthways, it is a tract no
traveller would care to enter on who has any solicitude about the hooves
of his horse. But just for this reason is it in every respect suitable
to the prairie pirates. They may cross it empty-handed, and recross
laden with spoil, without the pursuers being able to discover whence
they came, or whither they have gone.
Several times has this happened; settlers having come up the Colorado in
pursuit of a marauding party--supposed to be Comanche Indians--tracked
them into the San Saba bottom-land, and on over the bluff--there to lose
their trail, and retire disheartened from the pursuit.
Across this stony stretch proceed the freebooters, leaving no more trace
behind, than one would walking on a shingled sea-beach.
On its opposite edge they make stop to take bearings. For although they
have more than once passed that way before, it is a route which always
requires to be traversed with caution. To get strayed on the
inhospitable steppe would be attended with danger, and might result in
death.
In clear weather, to those acquainted with the trail, there is little
chance of losing it. For midway between the water courses runs a ridge,
bisecting the steppe in a longitudinal direction; and on the crest of
this is a tree, which can be seen from afar off on either side. The
ridge is of no great elevation, and would scarce be observable but for
the general level from which it rises, a mere comb upon the plain, such
as is known northward by the term _coteau de prairie_--a title bestowed
by trappers of French descent.
The tree stands solitary, beside a tiny spring, which bubbles out
between its roots. This, trickling off, soon sinks into the desert
sand, disappearing within a few yards of the spot where it has burst
forth.
In such situation both tree and fountain are strange; though the one
will account for the other, the former being due to the latter. But
still another agency is needed to explain the existence of the tree.
For it is a "cottonwood"--a species not found elsewhere upon the same
plain; its seed no doubt transported thither by some straying bird.
Dropped by the side of the spring in soil congenial, it has sprouted up,
nourished, and become a tall tree. Conspicuous for long leagues around,
it serves the prairie pirates as a finger-post to direct them across the
steppe; for by chance it stands right on their route. It is visible
from the edge of the pebble-strewn tract, but only when there is a
cloudless sky and shining sun. Now, the one is clouded, the other
unseen, and the tree cannot be distinguished.
For some minutes the robbers remain halted, but without dismounting.
Seated in the saddle, they strain their eyes along the horizon to the
west.
The Fates favour them; as in this world is too often the case with
wicked men, notwithstanding many saws to the contrary. The sun shoots
from behind a cloud, scattering his golden gleams broad and bright over
the surface of the plain. Only for an instant, but enough to show the
cottonwood standing solitary on the crest of the ridge.
"Thank the Lord for that glimp o' light!" exclaims Borlasse, catching
sight of the tree, "Now, boys; we see our beacon, an' let's straight to
it. When we've got thar I'll show ye a bit of sport as 'll make ye
laugh till there wont be a whole rib left in your bodies, nor a button
on your coats--if ye had coats on."
With this absurd premonition he presses on--his scattered troop
reforming, and following.