Leaving the main branch of Delaware Creek, a broad, sluggish stream
that slowly made its way toward the muddy Pecos River, a party of
horsemen turned up the west branch. Horses and men alike were
wearied, dusty, perspiring and sleepy under the glare of a
midsummer Texas sun. Little had been said for some time. None felt
like talking. For hours they had been working south by west, urged
on by the green of the foliage that they could see a short distance
ahead. At least it had seemed a short distance for the last five
hours, but the green trees now appeared to be just as far away as
when the party had first sighted them early in the morning.
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