THE CHRONICLES OF OKLAHOMA
It is easily distinguished by the red color of the sand deposited by the over.
lows, and the highwater marks on the trees, which look as though they had
been painted. The coloring is not from this locality, the lands here being
black; but the water is colored by the immense mulatto-colored clay beds
through which the river passes on the plains above. From this circumstance
it is called Red River. The bottom is about three miles wide to the river
where I struck it, but it was at the time entirely dry. Here I met a sober,
honest, pure-blooded Choctaw, with a rie on his shoulder and a pig
strapped on his back with linn bark, the fruit of his day's hunting. For the
consideration of a skulla-a dime- he conducted me to a trail which he
said would lead me to the river. And so it did. But I was none the better for
being there. It was a precipitous bluf, and impossible to descend. Above and
below were swamps thickly covered with undergrowth and matted with
vines, so that no horse could penetrate them. On the Texas side nothing
could be seen but a line of swamps and forest. The water in the river re-
flected the stars and tantalized my burning thirst; the thickets around were
the lurking-places of panthers, and the air was thickened with swarms of
voracious musketoes. Without the means of kindling a fire, it was plain that
I could not spend the night there.
My course was retraced to the upland in the hope that something would
"turn up." On this retrograde my horse, that had so marvelously held out
all day, gave unmistakable signs of yielding. On the upland I found my
situation but little better than it had been on the river, and in wandering
about a trail was discovered leading toward the river further to the right
through dense cane-brakes. The reeds stood thick on the ground, and the
path was narrow, barely admitting a single rider. The night had become
chilly, and the heavy dews on the cane saturated my garments from head to
foot. Such are the extremes of this climate. Presently my horse took fright
at a man lying in the path. I could not get around him for the denseness of
the cane, nor had I any disposition to examine into the case. For if the man
were dead I might get into trouble at being found with him, if he were
asleep it would not be safe to wake him, and if he were intoxicated I would
not know what to do with him. I therefore sought to shun him. Several
efforts to make my horse leap over him were unsuccessful. At last the
exasperated animal made a spring into the cane, which yielded at the top
but entangled his feet at the bottom. After desperate struggling and sundry
scratches and bruises the trail was regained beyond the prostrate red man.
Once more before reaching the river I fell in with an Indian on horseback.
The usual parley ensued. He was carrying an empty jug. That jug was the
most encouraging object I had seen since morning; its owner was in quest
of whisky, and it must, therefore, be on its way to the borders of civilization/