camp. I, however, never went out, and had no occasion to fire my gun;
except, being detained over a day at Goliad, Benjamin and I concluded to
go down to the creek--which was fringed with timber, much of it the
pecan--and bring back a few turkeys. We had scarcely reached the edge
of the timber when I heard the flutter of wings overhead, and in an
instant I saw two or three turkeys flying away. These were soon
followed by more, then more, and more, until a flock of twenty or thirty
had left from just over my head. All this time I stood watching the
turkeys to see where they flew--with my gun on my shoulder, and never
once thought of levelling it at the birds. When I had time to reflect
upon the matter, I came to the conclusion that as a sportsman I was a
failure, and went back to the house. Benjamin remained out, and got as
many turkeys as he wanted to carry back.

After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to make the
remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus Christi just in time
to avoid "absence without leave." We met no one not even an Indian
--during the remainder of our journey, except at San Patricio. A new
settlement had been started there in our absence of three weeks, induced
possibly by the fact that there were houses already built, while the
proximity of troops gave protection against the Indians. On the evening
of the first day out from Goliad we heard the most unearthly howling of
wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was tall and we could
not see the beasts, but the sound indicated that they were near. To my
ear it appeared that there must have been enough of them to devour our
party, horses and all, at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed
from was not thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before
I left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less populated, where the wolf
yet roamed over the prairies. He understood the nature of the animal
and the capacity of a few to make believe there was an unlimited number