"Cotton-woods!" cried a hunter, as his eye rested on these still distant groves. "Tall saplins at that--wagh!" ejaculated another. "Water thar, fellers, I reckin!" remarked a third. "Yes, siree! Yer don't see such sprouts as them growin' out o' a dry paraira. Look! Hollo!" "By gollies, yonder's a house!" "A house? One, two, three! A house? Thar's a whole town, if thar's a single shanty. Gee! Jim, look yonder! Wagh!" I was riding in front with Seguin, the rest of the band strung out behind us. I had been for some time gazing upon the ground, in a sort of abstraction, looking: at the snow-white efflorescence, and listening to the crunching of my horse's hoofs through its icy incrustation. These exclamatory phrases caused me to raise my eyes. The sight that met them was one that made me rein up with a sudden jerk. Seguin had done the same, and I saw that the whole band had halted with a similar impulse. We had just cleared one of the buttes that had hitherto obstructed our view of the great gap. This was now directly in front of us; and along its base, on the southern side, rose the walls and battlements of a city--a vast city, judging from its distance and the colossal appearance of its architecture. We could trace the columns of temples, and doors, and gates, and windows, and balconies, and parapets, and spires. There were many towers rising high over the roofs, and in the middle was a temple-like structure, with its massive dome towering far above all the others. I looked upon this sudden apparition with a feeling of incredulity. It was a dream, an imagination, a mirage. Ha! it was the mirage! No! The mirage could not effect such a complete picture. There were the roofs, and chimneys, and walls, and windows. There were the parapets of fortified houses, with their regular notches and embrasures. It was a reality. It was a city! Was it the Cibolo of the Spanish padre? Was it that city of golden gates and burnished towers? After all, was the story of the wandering priest true? Who had proved it a fable? Who had ever penetrated this region, the very country in which the ecclesiastic represented the golden city of Cibolo to exist? I saw that Seguin was puzzled, dismayed, as well as myself. He knew nothing of this land. He had never witnessed a mirage like that. For some time we sat in our saddles, influenced by strange emotions. Shall we go forward? Yes! We must reach water. We are dying of thirst; and, impelled by this, we spur onward. We had ridden only a few paces farther when the hunters uttered a sudden and simultaneous cry. A new object--an object of terror--was before us. Along the mountain foot appeared a string of dark forms. They were mounted men! We dragged our horses to their haunches, our whole line halting as one man. "Injuns!" was the exclamation of several.