21st April (Tuesday).—We started at 5 A.M., and reached a hamlet called “Casa Blanca” at 6. We procured a kid, some Indian corn, and two fowls in this neighbourhood.
We had now quitted the flat country, and entered an undulating or “rolling” country, full of live oaks of very respectable size, and we had also got out of the mud.
Mr Sargent and the Judge got drunk again about 8 A.M., which, however, had a beneficial effect upon the speed. We descended the hills at a terrific pace—or, as Mr Sargent expressed it, “Going like h—ll a-beating tan bark.”
We “nooned it” at a small creek; and after unhitching, Mr Sargent and the Judge had a row with one another, after which Mr Sargent killed and cooked the goat, using my knife for these operations. With all his faults he certainly is a capital butcher, cook, and mule-driver. He takes great care of his animals, and is careful to inform us that the increased pace we have been going at is not attributable to gin.
He was very complimentary to me, because I acted as assistant cook and butcher.
Mr Ward’s party passed us about 1 P.M. The front wheels of his buggy having now smashed, it is hitched in rear of one of the waggons.
We made a pretty good afternoon’s drive through a wood of post oaks, where we saw another rattlesnake, which we tried to shoot.
We halted at Spring creek at 6.30 P.m.; water rather brackish, and no grass for the mules.
The Judge gave us some of his experiences as a filibuster. He declares that a well-cooked polecat is as good to eat as a pig, and that stewed rattlesnake is not so bad as might be supposed. The Texans call the Mexicans “greasers,” the latter retort by the name “gringo.”
We are now living luxuriously upon eggs and goat’s flesh; and I think we have made about thirty-two miles to-day.
