The last were big black curs with, as we were assured,
"considerable hound" in them. One was at the time staying at the ranch
house, the other was four or five miles off with a Mexican goat-herder,
and it was arranged that early in the morning we should ride down to the
latter place, taking the first dog with us and procuring his companion
when we reached the goat-herder's house.
We started after breakfast, riding powerful cow-ponies, well trained to
gallop at full speed through the dense chaparral. The big black hound
slouched at our heels. We rode down the banks of the Nueces, crossing
and recrossing the stream. Here and there were long, deep pools in the
bed of the river, where rushes and lilies grew and huge mailed
garfish swam slowly just beneath the surface of the water. Once my two
companions stopped to pull a mired cow out of a slough, hauling with
ropes from their saddle horns. In places there were half-dry pools,
out of the regular current of the river, the water green and fetid.
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