Here and there were long, deep pools in the bed of the river, where rushes and lilies grew and huge mailed garfish swam slowly just beneath the surface of the water.

Once my two companions stopped to pull a mired cow out of a slough, hauling with ropes from their saddle horns.

In places there were half-dry pools, out of the regular current of the river, the water green and fetid.

The trees were very tall and large.

The streamers of pale gray moss hung thickly from the branches of the live-oaks, and when many trees thus draped stood close together they bore a strangely mournful and desolate look.
We finally found the queer little hut of the Mexican goat-herder in the midst of a grove of giant pecans.