The water was fresher and colder, and they felt as if they had come into a new world.
But the question of food supply returned.

They had used the wild fruits in abundance, always economizing strictly with their tortillas and frijoles.

Now they had eaten the last of these and a diet of fruit alone would not do.
"We'll have to sell a pistol in the way that we sold the musket," said Ned.
"I hate to do it," said Obed, "but I don't see anything else that we can do.

We might seize our food at the first hut we find, but whatever may be the quarrels between the Mexicans and Texans, I'm not willing to rob any of these poor peons." "Nor I," said Ned with emphasis.

"My pistol goes first." They found the usual adobe hut in a pleasant valley, and the noble senor, the proprietor, was at home playing a mandolin.