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Updated: May 17, 2025
The cliff, up which the young prairie merchant and his guide, after their series of hairbreadth escapes, have succeeded in climbing, is the scarped edge of a spur of the famous Llano Estacado, or "Staked Plain," and it is into this sterile tract they are now fleeing. Neither have any definite knowledge of the country before them, or the direction they ought to take.
The setting sun saw that long line of Indian warriors filing from the valley, and heading for the plain of the Llano Estacado. But they went not as they had come. They returned to their country laden with the plunder of San Ildefonso to them the legitimate spoils of war. The cibolero still rode at their head, and Don Juan the ranchero was by his side.
Uraga takes another turn across the floor, then, seating himself by the table, seeks rest for his passion-tossed soul by drinking deep of the mescal of Tequila. The elevated table-land known as Llano Estacado is in length over three hundred miles, with an average width of sixty or seventy.
It was no wonder that the Spanish padres, who had crossed this enormous plateau long before, had named it the Llano Estacado the Staked Plains. They had had a good reason of their own. In order to keep the trail marked, they had been compelled to drive stakes in the ground as they went along. Although the stakes had gone long since, the name still stuck.
The perils of the Llano Estacado were behind them, but they were now in the domain of the Comanche and in hourly danger of ambush or open attack. They found a great deal of Indian "sign," their trails and camps; but the "sign" was ten days or two weeks old, which left ground for hope that the war parties might be out on raids in the east or south.
Another sun rises over the Llano Estacado, his beams gilding with ruddy glow the brown basaltic cliffs that enclose the valley of the Arroyo de Alamo. On projecting points of these, above the spot chosen by Uraga for his camp, the black vultures are still perched.
They seemed to be moving northward, along the level meadows that stretched between the butte and the Llano Estacado. This proved to be the case; for in a few minutes the headmost had pushed forward on a line with the butte; and our young hunters could distinguish the shaggy, lion-shaped bodies of the bulls that formed the vanguard of the "gang."
It was Kid Wolf's second day on the Llano Estacado, and his usual good spirits had returned. His voice rose tunefully and cheerily above the steady drumming of Blizzard's hoofs. Surely the scene that lay before his eyes could not have aroused his enthusiasm. It was lonely and desolate enough, with its endless sweeps dim against each horizon.
We only knew that there lay the Llano Estacado, invested with mysterious terrors the theme of our childhood's fears a vast stretch of desert, uninhabited, or only by savages seeking scalps, by wild beasts ravening for blood, by hideous reptiles serpents breathing poison. But what were all these dangers to that we were leaving behind? Nothing, and this thought inspired us to proceed.
So perilous is the "Jornada," or crossing of the Llano Estacado, that throughout all its length of four hundred miles there are only two places where travellers can effect it in safety!
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