It was a wild section, wholly
unsettled, between low mountains, the river-bed constantly shifting
from one flank of the valley to the other, while cliffs from three to
five hundred feet high alternated from side to side. In traveling the
first twenty-five miles we crossed the bed of the river twenty-one
times; and besides the river there were a great number of creeks and
dry arroyos putting in from the surrounding hills, so that we were
constantly crossing rough ground. The beds of the streams were covered
with smooth, water-worn pebbles, white as marble, and then again we
encountered limestone in lava formation, honeycombed with millions of
sharp, up-turned cells. Some of the descents were nearly impossible
for wagons, but we locked both hind wheels and just let them slide
down and bounce over the boulders at the bottom. Half-way through the
canon the water failed us, with the south fork of the Llano forty
miles distant in our front. We were compelled to allow the cattle to
pick their way over the rocky trail, the herds not over a mile apart,
and scarcely maintaining a snail's pace. I rode from rear to front
and back again a dozen times in clearing the defile, and noted that
splotches of blood from tender-footed cattle marked the white pebbles
at every crossing of the river-bed. On the evening of the third day,
the rear herd passed the exit of the canon, the others having turned
aside to camp for the night.
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