On the second morning they continued their journey, and in a few days reached the "Cross Timbers,"-- those celebrated groves that have so long puzzled the speculations of the curious naturalist.
Our travellers did not remain long by them--as they saw no signs of the buffalo--but kept still farther to the west, crossing the head-waters of numerous streams that run into the river Brazos.
About the third day, after leaving the Cross Timbers, they encamped on one of these streams--a very small one--that meandered through the prairie, without any timber upon its banks.

But our travellers did not feel the want of this, as they could make their fire out of an article-- the sight of which had been gladdening their eyes during the whole of that day's journey.

It was the _bois de vache_, or buffalo "chips," as it is called by the trappers; and they knew that where this was found, the buffaloes themselves would not be far off.

They had now got within the _range_ of these animals; and might expect to fall in with them at any moment.
As soon as the next day dawned, the eyes of our hunters sought the prairie, but as yet no buffaloes were in sight.

Nothing could be seen but the green treeless plain, stretching on all sides as if to the very sky.