again partook of beef and water, with an excellent relish. But a new difficulty now presented itself. A deep river was before me, without a bridge or a boat, and I could not swim. But cross the stream I must by some means. In the first place, I explored the river, up and down, several miles, hoping to find some one to aid me, but not a sign of a human being, or human habitation could I discover. I resolved to attempt to cross the river on a log, and after much hard work succeeded in getting two logs of sufficient size, into the water, fastened them together with strips of my blanket, and with pole in hand, launched into the river. The stream being quite rapid, my frail craft floated down about one mile, but I safely landed on the opposite shore without much trouble. After wandering in the canebrakes two hours, I struck a road, and thanked God and took courage. I soon came to a house, and had the good fortune to obtain a quart of corn, which I ground in an old coffee mill, and made some excellent corn bread of meal and water. I passed through San Felipe, where was once a village, but only its ruins then remained, for the Mexicans had destroyed it. Waking one morning about sunrise, I was amazed by the presence of six naked Indians, squatted in the grass around me. I jumped to my feet; they saw that I was astonished, but I noticed they smiled. Taking courage by that friendly token, I walked up to them, and extended my right hand. They offered me the pipe of peace, which was gladly accepted. They did not understand a word of English, nor I a word of Indian. We talked, however, in gestures. They remained an hour, when we separated in friendship.