The animals began to give out.

It was the season of the year when they change their coats, and are in poor condition even under the best circumstances, and mine were exhausted from lack of food.

They would not eat the dry grass, and the green pasture was still too scanty to suffice for their maintenance.

The information that the natives had burned all the grass proved correct to its fullest extent, so there was nothing for me to do but to establish a camp, scarcely a day's journey off, at Tasajisa, where there was some pasture along the ridges that had as yet escaped the fire of the Indians.

Leaving the larger part of my outfit and about half of my mules in charge of my chief packer, Mr.Taylor and I continued the journey with the best and strongest of the animals, making a circuitous tour to the little mining town of Zapuri, in the neighbourhood of which were some caves I wanted to investigate.
After a day's journey we turned westward and got beyond the range of the fires.