There is no movement in the Indian camp. It is a bad indication. Had they intended to travel on, they would have been stirring before this. They are always on the route before daybreak. These signs strengthen our feelings of apprehension. The grey light begins to spread over the prairie. There is a white band along the eastern sky. There are noises in the camp. There are voices. Dark forms move about among the upright spears. Tall savages stride over the plain. Their robes of skins are wrapped around their shoulders to protect them from the raw air of the morning. They carry faggots. They are rekindling the fires! Our men talk in whispers, as we lie straining our eyes to catch every movement. "It's plain they intend to make a stay of it." "Ay! we're in for it, that's sartin! Wagh! I wonder how long thar a-goin' to squat hyar, any how." "Three days at the least: may be four or five." "Great gollies! we'll be froze in half the time." "What would they be doin' here so long? I warrant ye they'll clar out as soon as they can." "So they will; but how can they in less time?" "They can get all the meat they want in a day. See! yonder's buffalo a plenty; look! away yonder!" and the speaker points to several black objects outlined against the brightening sky. It is a herd of buffaloes. "That's true enough. In half a day I warrant they kin get all the meat they want: but how are they a-goin' to jirk it in less than three? That's what I want to know." "Es verdad!" says one of the Mexicans, a cibolero; "tres dias, al menos!" (It is true--three days, at the least!) "Ay, hombre! an' with a smart chance o' sunshine at that, I guess." This conversation is carried on by two or three of the men in a low tone, but loud enough for the rest of us to overhear it. It reveals a new phase of our dilemma on which we have not before reflected. Should the Indians stay to "jerk" their meat, we will be in extreme danger from thirst, as well as of being discovered in our cache. We know that the process of jerking buffalo beef takes three days, and that with a hot sun, as the hunter has intimated. This, with the first day required for hunting, will keep us four days in the ravine! The prospect is appalling. We feel that death or the extreme torture of thirst is before us. We have no fear of hunger. Our horses are in the grove, and our knives in our belts. We can, live for weeks upon them; but will the cacti assuage the thirst of men and horses for a period of three or four days? This is a question no one can answer. It has often relieved the hunter for a short period, enabling him to crawl on to the water; but for days! The trial will soon commence. The day has fairly broken. The Indians spring to their feet. About one-half of them draw the pickets of their horses, and lead them to the water. They adjust their bridles, pluck up their spears, snatch their bows, shoulder their quivers, and leap on horseback.