Welcome to Cabeza de Vaca.

Episode 12, The Great Gunal.

I'm Brandon Seale.

The men ran through the grasslands in their woven fiber sandals, some naked, some covered with only a loin cloth made from deer or rabbit or coyote hides.

They weren't so much fast, however, as they were persistent, and they were coordinated.

The little dough running in front of them had tried everything she could to evade them, but at each turn there was another man waiting there to meet her.

Occasionally, she would stop and try to disappear in plain sight.

But before she could even start panting, the tribesmen would be upon her once again,

pushing her ever closer to the shoreline.

These Native Americans that Cabeza de Vaca and Dorantes lived with during the winter of 1532

and 33 weren't as tall as the others that the expeditionaries had encountered back on Galveston

Island. They weren't as good with bows and arrows either, but if everything went according

to plan on this hunt, they wouldn't need them. The idea was to drive the dough into the bay and let her drown

there, making everyone's job easier. And by this point, after almost a day of following behind

this little dough, they had pushed her into the sand dunes on the beach.

The men from further behind began to catch up, and soon they formed up in one great long line.

They flushed the dough one last time from a stand of beach grass, and the dough realized that she was out of options.

Her pursuers were just a few dozen yards away now, and her only escape was into the gentle surf of the Gulf. She bolted with one last surge of energy and leapt into

the waves. Then she panicked. The water was deeper than she'd expected, and the waves were a new sensation

to her. In her panic, she

began to flail, expending what precious little oxygen remained in her lungs. And by the time

she went underwater, she was already dead. The dough would feed this little native band for

...