I didn't approach them closely, neither did I follow down the stream any further.

We kept parallel with the course of the river, and soon stopped at the foot of a high sandhill.

From here I knew I could get a view of the whole country.
I told White to remain there until I came back, and, jumping off old Joe, I cautiously climbed the hill.
From behind a big soapweed--a plant sometimes called Spanish Dagger--I got a view of the Dismal River, for several miles.

I immediately discovered smoke arising from a bunch of timber about three miles below me.

Grazing around the timber were several hundred head of horses.