As it was, however, we made some excursions among the _rancheros_, or cattle-breeders, and visited several Indian tribes, with whom we hunted, waiting impatiently for a westward-bound caravan.
One day, I had a rather serious adventure.

Roche and Gabriel were bear-hunting, while I, feeling tired, had remained in a rancho, where, for a few days, we had had some amusement; in the afternoon, I felt an inclination to eat some fish, and being told that at three or four miles below, there was a creek full of fine basses, I went away with my rifle, hooks, and line.

I soon found the spot, and was seeking for some birds or squirrels, whose flesh I could use as bait.

As, rifle in hand, I walked, watching the branches of the trees along the stream, I felt something scratching my leggings and moccasins; I looked down, and perceived a small panther-cub frisking and frolicking around my feet, inviting me to play with it.

It was a beautiful little creature, scarcely bigger than a common cat.