The early dawn of Wednesday morning saw us again astir. There was the same creeping of mist out of the valley to join the darkness as it fled from the plains above, and the same revealing of thousands of shaggy forms silently feeding in the distance. This time our beasts and our bodies were both in excellent condition for the chase. Joints gain and lose stiffness quickly in such a life. One morning the hunter feels as if the mill of life, though he turn its crank ever so slowly, had broken every bone in his body; twenty-four hours later may find him elastic and buoyant, as if youth had torn away from the embrace of the dead past and was with him again in all its pristine vigor. In the present case, too, that friend of early hours and foe of sleepy eyes, the coffee bean had done its work for us grandly. Ten horsemen comprised the strength of the party which rode out of the valley just as daylight was coming into it. One of the hostlers and a Mexican were left in camp, the remainder of our force accompanying us, with a couple of wagons to bring in the game. At his earnest solicitation, Shamus was permitted to abandon his post of duty temporarily, and go along also, with the understanding that he was to select choice pieces from the first suitable game we might bring down, and, returning to camp, be ready for our arrival with an ample dinner. As we rode down the valley of Silver Creek, gangs of wild turkeys occasionally came out of the narrow skirt of timber, and, running along before us for short distances, re-entered it, and were lost to view again. Never having been hunted, they seemed destitute of the timidity and cunning which are the usual characteristics of this bird. Twenty minutes' ride brought us to the Saline, the basin of which we found to be half a mile or thereabouts in width, and presenting a scene of great desolation. We were something like two hundred feet below the table-lands which came down to the narrow valley in barren canyons and masses of rock. The stream itself is narrow, with less than two feet of water running swiftly over the sands, and along its banks, at intervals, a few dwarfed cottonwood trees. Such was the Valley of the Saline at this point; yet thirty miles below, our men told us, the valley opened out into rich bottom lands, and was famous for its beauty.