At daylight we discovered, to our horror, that three of our
mules were absent; but after an hour's search they were brought back in triumph
by the Judge.
This delayed our start till 6.30. A.M.
I walked ahead again with the Judge, who explained to me
that he was a “senator,” or member of the Upper House of Texas — “just like
your House of Lords” he said. He gets $5 a-day whilst sitting, and is elected
for four years*
We struck water at 8.30 A.M., and bought a lamb for a
dollar. We also bought some beef, which in this country is dried in strips by
the sun, after being cut off the bullock, and it keeps good for any length of
time. To cook it, the strips are thrown for a few minutes on hot embers.
One of our mules was kicked last night. Mr Sargent rubbed
the wound with brandy, which did it much good.
Soon after leaving this well, Mr Sargent discovered that, by
following the track of Mr Ward's waggons, he had lost the way. He swore
dreadfully, and solaced himself with so much gin, that when we arrived at
Sulphur Creek at 12.30, both he and the Judge were, by their own confession, quite
tight.
We halted, ate some salt meat, and bathed in this creek,
which is about forty yards broad and three feet deep.
Mr Sargent's extreme “tightness” caused him to fall asleep
on the box when we started again, but the more seasoned Judge drove the mules.
The signs of getting out of the sands now began to be
apparent; and at 5 P.M. we were able to halt at a very decent place with grass,
but no water. We suffered here for want of water, our stock being very
nearly expended.
Mr Sargent, who was now comparatively sober, killed the
sheep most scientifically at 5.30 P.M.; and at 6.30 we were actually devouring
it, and found it very good. Mr Sargent cooked it by the simple process of
stewing junks of it in a frying-pan, but we had only just enough water to do
this.
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* I was afterwards told that the Judge's term of service had
expired. El Paso was his district.
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