During the day we saw many varieties of the cactus, some of them very beautiful. As we had no regular botanist with our expedition, Mr. Colon developed a taste in that direction, and secured and deposited several fine specimens which were carefully laid away in Shamus' wagon. It was not long before that excellent Irishman gave a prolonged howl, the cause of which he did not vouchsafe to tell us, but as we saw him cautiously rubbing his pantaloons we surmised that he had rolled or sat down upon a choice variety. The remainder of the plants he must, with still greater caution, have dropped overboard, as none could subsequently be found for boxing. If the truth must be said, I was not at all sorry for it. I had lent a hand in obtaining an unusually large cactus, but the loan was returned in such damaged condition that I lost all interest at once. The minute needles which nature has scattered over these plants will pierce a glove readily, and burrow in the flesh like trichina. The cactus may be set down as Dame Nature's pin-cushions. Endless prairie-dog villages covered the country, and occasionally cayotes, about the size of setters, with brushy, fox-like tails, started out of ravines and ran off with a hang-dog sort of look, stopping occasionally to see if they were being pursued. Our guide ran one of these down with his horse and it was almost with sympathy that we watched the tired wolf, when he found running useless, dodging between the horse's legs, rendering the rider's aim false. It was finally dispatched by a greyhound. The latter deserved his name only from courtesy of species, as his color was inky black. He belonged to one of our hostlers, who got him from a Mexican train-master, and was a wonderful fighter. I saw him afterward in combats with not only the cayote, but the large timber wolf, and in every instance he came off the victor. On one occasion, I remember, he whipped the combined curs of a railroad tie camp, making every antagonist take to his heels. Very nearly as high as a table, with powerful chest and immense spring, the hound's movements were like flashes of light. He danced round and over his foe, his fangs clicking like a steel trap, first on one side and now on the other, and again, ere his enemy had closed its jaws on the shadow in front, he was at the rear. I have seen a gray wolf bleeding and helpless, and the hound untouched, after a half hour's combat.