We reached our camping place at the foot of the hill, about a hundred yards from the house we have so long striven to reach.  Here we unloaded in the shade of a large willow tree, and scarcely had we removed the harness from the oxen when the good lady of the house and her little child came down to see us.  She stood for a moment and looked around her and at the two small children on the blankets, and we could hear her murmur mucha pobre (very poor.) She could see our ragged clothes and dirty faces and everything told her of our extreme destitution.  After seeing our oxen and mule which were so poor she said to herself “flaco, flaco” (so thin.) She then turned to us, Rogers and I, whom she had seen before, and as her lively little youngster clung to her dress, as if in fear of such queer looking people as we were, she took an orange from her pocket and pointing to the children of our party, wanted to know if we had given them the four oranges she sent to them by us.  We made signs that we had done as she requested, when she smiled and said “Buenos Muchachos” (good boys.) In all this talk neither could say a word the other could understand, and the conversation was carried on by signs.

Arcane said to her—­“Me Catholic” which she seemed partly to comprehend and seemed more friendly.  About this time two men rode up and took a look at us.  Arcane, who was a mason, gave the masonic sign, as he told me afterward, but neither of them recognized it.  We used such words of Spanish as I had taken down in my pass book and committed to memory and by motions in addition to these made them understand something of the state of affairs and that Mr. French who had assisted us before had told us we could get some meat (carne) from them.  These men were finely mounted, wore long leggins made of hide, dressed with the hair on, which reached to their hips, stiff hats with a broad rim, and great spurs at their heels.  Each had a coil of braided rawhide rope on the pommel of the saddle, and all these arrangements together made a very dashing outfit.

They seemed to understand what we had said to them, for they rode off with a rush and came back in a short time, leading a fine, fat two-year-old heifer.  When near our camp the rider who was behind threw his riata and caught both hind feet of the animal when by a sudden movement of the horses the heifer was thrown.  One of them dismounted, and at the command the horse backed up and kept the rope tight while the man went up to the prostrate beast and cut its throat.  As soon as it had ceased struggling, they loosened their ropes and coiled them up:  they came to us and pointed to the dead heifer in a way which said—­“Help yourselves.”