He knew by the sun that it was morning not far
advanced, and he wished to travel many miles before night. He saw
abundant evidences on the great highway that the army was marching
toward Vera Cruz, and as before he traveled on a line parallel with it,
but at least a mile away. He passed two sheep herders, but he displayed
the machete, and whistling carelessly went on. They did not follow, and
he was sure that they took him for a bandit whom it would be wise to let
alone.
Ned wandered on for two or three days. In one of his turnings among the
mountains he lost the Vera Cruz highway, and came out again upon a wide,
sandy plain, dotted with scattered cactus. As he was crossing it a
Norther came up, and blew with great fierceness. Sand was driven into
his face with such force that it stung like shot. The cold became
intense, and if it had not been for the serape he might have perished.
The storm was still blowing when he reached the far edge of the plain,
and came into extremely rough country, with patches of low, thorny
forest. Here he found a dilapidated bark hut, evidently used at times by
Mexican herdsmen, and, thankful for such shelter, he crept into it and
fell asleep. When he awoke he felt very weak.
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