About two o’clock the next morning we saddled and resumed our travel, journeying by the stars, still in a north-east direction.  On leaving the Wakoes, we thought that we could be not more than one hundred miles from the Comanche encampment.  We had now ridden much more than that distance, and were still on the immense prairie.  To relieve ourselves from the horrible suspense we were in—­to push forward, with the hope of procuring some provisions—­to get somewhere, in short, was now our object, and we pressed onward, with the hope of finding relief.

Our horses had, as yet, suffered less than ourselves, for the grazing in the prairie had been good; but our now hurried march, and the difficult crossing of the immense chasms, began to tell upon them.  At sunrise we halted near a small pond of water, to rest the animals and allow them an hour to feed.

While stretched upon the ground, we perceived a large antelope slowly approaching—­now stopping, now walking a few steps nearer, evidently inquisitive as to who, or rather what, we might be.  His curiosity cost him his life:  with a well-directed shot, Gabriel brought him down, and none but a starved man could appreciate our delight.  We cooked the best part of the animal, made a plentiful dinner, and resumed our journey.

For three days more, the same dreary spectacle of a boundless prairie was still before us.  Not a sign was visible that we were bearing its edge.  We journeyed rapidly on till near the middle of the afternoon of the third day, when we noticed a dark spot a mile and a half ahead of us.  At first we thought it to be a low bush, but as we gradually neared it, it had more the appearance of a rock, although nothing of the kind had been seen from the time we first came on the prairie, with the exception of those at the chasms.

“A buffalo” cried Roche, whose keen eye at last penetrated the mystery:  “a buffalo, lying down and asleep.”  Here, then, was another chance for making a good meal, and we felt our courage invigorated.  Gabriel went ahead on foot, with his rifle, in the hope that he should at least get near enough to wound the animal, while Roche and I made every preparation for the chase.  Disencumbering our horses of every pound of superfluous weight, we started for the sport, rendered doubly exciting by the memory of our recent suffering from starvation.

For a mile beyond where the buffalo lay, the prairie rose gradually, and we knew nothing of the nature of the ground beyond.  Gabriel crept till within a hundred and fifty yards of the animal, which now began to move and show signs of uneasiness.  Gabriel gave him a shot:  evidently hit, he rose from the ground, whisked his long tail, and looked for a moment inquiringly about him.  I still kept my position a few hundred yards from Gabriel, who reloaded his piece.  Another shot followed:  the buffalo again lashed his sides, and then started off at a rapid gallop, directly towards the sun, evidently wounded, but not seriously hurt.