The Wild Man of the West: A Tale of the Rocky Mountains

  CHAPTER NINE.

  BOUNCE COGITATES UPON THE EMBARRASSING CIRCUMSTANCES OF HIS CONDITION--DISCOVERY OF BLACK GIBAULT--TERRIBLE FATE IN STORE FOR THEIR COMRADES--AMODE OF RESCUE PLANNED--DREADFUL EFFECTS OF FIRE-WATER--THE RESCUE.

  About ten minutes after making his escape from his Indian foes, Bounceseated himself on the trunk of a fallen tree and began to think upon"Number One."

  A little red squirrel had been seated on the trunk of that tree just twominutes before his arrival. It was now seated on the topmost branch ofa neighbouring pine, looking with a pair of brilliant black eyesindignantly at the unceremonious intruder.

  Possibly the reader may think that it was selfish of Bounce, at such atime, to devote much attention to Number One. He had just escaped; hewas in comparative safety; he was free; while there could be little orno doubt that his late companions were prisoners, if not killed, andthat, in the ordinary course of things, they would eventually sufferdeath by torture. At such a time and in such circumstances it would bemore natural, even in a selfish man, to think of any or of all the othernumerals than number one.

  But, reader, I need scarcely tell you that things are not always whatthey seem. Men are frequently not so bad as, at a first glance, theywould appear to be.

  Bounce always reasoned philosophically, and he often thought aloud. Hedid so on this occasion, to the immense edification of the little redsquirrel, no doubt. At least, if we may judge from the way in which itglared and stared at the trapper--peeped at him round the trunk of thetree, and over the branches and under the twigs and through the leaves,jerking its body and quirking its head and whisking its tail--we haveevery reason to conclude that it experienced very deep interest andintense excitement. Pleasure and excitement being, with many people,convertible terms, we have no reason for supposing that it is otherwisewith squirrels, and therefore every reason for concluding that thesquirrel in question enjoyed Bounce's visit greatly.

  "Now this is wot it comes to," said Bounce, calmly filling his pipe,from the mere force of habit, for he had not at that time the mostdistant idea of enjoying a smoke. "This is wot it comes to. Savages issavages all the wurld over, and they always wos savages, an' they alwayswill be savages, an' they can't be nothin' else."

  At this point Bounce recollected having seen an Indian missionary, whohad been taken when a boy from his father's wigwam and educated, and whohad turned out as good and respectable a Christian gentleman as mostwhite men, and better than many, so he checked himself and said--

  "Leastwise they can't be nothin' but savages so--so long as they issavages."

  This argument, although exceedingly obvious, seemed even to his own mindto possess so little power, that he endeavoured to enforce it byslapping his thigh with such energy that the body of the red squirrelnearly jumped out at its own eyes. It clasped the tree stem to itsbeating heart bravely, however, and, judging from its subsequentconduct, speedily recovered its self-possession.

  "That's how it is," continued Bounce; "an' that bein' the case, savagesalways invariably thinks o' number one before they thinks on anythin'else. Now, as men judges theirselves so they judges of others--that's afact, as all feelosophy has preclaimed, an' all experience has pruven.Wot then? Why, them savages 'll think I've cleared off--made tracks--thankful to git away with my own skin whole, and carin' no more for mycomrades than if they wos so many stumps. Thinkin' that, of coorsethey'll think it's o' no use to try to cross the river and give chase,'cause I've got a long start o' 'em, an' so, d'ye see, they'll give meup an' think no more about me. Good! very good! But p'r'aps it's jestposs'ble that feller whose paw I tickled _may_ sometimes recall me tomind."

  This last idea tickled the trapper so powerfully that he chuckled in aquiet way, and in doing so exposed such a double row of white teeth thatthe squirrel, which had remained for some time in an attitude of deepattention, began to show symptoms of uneasiness.

  "Now I'll tell you wot I'll do," continued Bounce, resuming his look ofgrave anxiety as the thought of his comrades recurred to him; "I'll goup the river till I comes to opposite the place where I shoved the canoeinto the water. By the time I git there it'll be dark; then I'll swumacross an' foller the redskins an' save my comrades if I can. If Ican't, wot then? why, I'll leave the scalp of Bob Ounce to dangle in thesmoke of a redskin's wigwam."

  We have elsewhere hinted that when a Rocky Mountain trapper makes up hismind to do a certain thing he usually does it at once. Having settledthe plan of his future proceedings, Bounce did not waste more time inthought or speech. He thrust his unsmoked pipe into his bosom, leapedup from the trunk of the fallen tree, and darted from the spot with suchsudden promptitude, that the horrified squirrel sprang wildly into emptyspace and vanished from the scene for ever!

  For a quarter of an hour Bounce glided noiselessly through the forest,keeping a course parallel with the river. In the deepening gloom ofevening, he appeared more like a spectre than a human being--so quickand agile were his motions as he flitted past the tree stems, yet sonoiseless the tread of his moccasined feet. The bushes were thick andin places tangled, compelling him to stoop and twist and diverge rightand left as he sped along, but, being unencumbered with weapons orweight of any kind, he advanced so rapidly that in the short space oftime we have mentioned he stood opposite to that part of the bank wherethe attack had been made, and below which he had been swept for a greatdistance in the canoe by the rapid stream.

  Here he spent some time in reconnoitring the opposite bank, but withoutgathering much information from his observations. No symptom of thepresence of human beings could be discovered. No column of smoke risingabove the trees to tell of the watch-fire of white man or red. Thetrapper listened intently, then he bethought him, for the first time, ofgiving the signal which, at setting out on their journey, they hadagreed to use in all circumstances of danger. It was the low howl of awolf followed immediately by the hoot of an owl. The reply to it was tobe the hoot of the owl without the cry of the wolf when danger should beimminent and extreme caution necessary, or the howl of the wolf alone ifdanger should have passed away.

  To the first utterance of the signal no reply was made. After waiting afew seconds, Bounce gave it forth again. Immediately after, the lowhowl of a wolf was heard on the opposite bank, and a figure appeared atthe edge of the river. Darkness prevented the trapper ascertaining whoit was, but a repetition of the cry convinced him that it could be noneother than Black Gibault.

  With a grunt of satisfaction, Bounce at once proceeded to makepreparations for crossing the river. Cutting a large piece of bark froma neighbouring tree, he hastily formed it into a species of dish or flatboat; then, stripping off all his garments, he tied them up in a tightbundle, and placed them in this miniature canoe; after which he plungedboldly into the stream and made for the opposite shore, pushing hislittle ark before him. In five minutes he had crossed, and entered intoa hasty conversation with Gibault in low, eager tones, while pulling onhis clothes.

  "First of all, lad," said Bounce, laying his hand impressively on theother's shoulder, "are they all safe?--none killed?"

  "Non; dey be all alive, for certain."

  "I'm thankful for that--_very_ thankful. Now go ahead, lad, and tell mewhat ye know, while I pull on my leggins."

  "Vell, dey be alive, as I have say. Mais dey not live long."

  Gibault said this with such a look of woebegone despair that Bouncepaused in the midst of his dressing and said with much anxiety--"Wot'swrong?--why not, lad?"

  "'Cause dey vill be tortured to death demain, or de day apres de morrow.Stay, I vill tell to you all I knows. You mus' know, ven I run avayfrom you, I do so 'cause I know dat canoe ver' probabilie git opturned,so I come to river bank before every von. Dere is von big tree dere, soop I go like von skvirrel. You know vat come to pass apres dat. Yousmash de head of de Injun, aussi you smash de paddil. Den you escape,an' de Injuns howl vid passion!

  "Ver' soon after dat, dey all come to de bank of river--forty of
'em, Itink--draggin' our comerades vid dem, all tied by de wrist--Redhand, an'Big Valler, an' March, an' Hawksving, an' poor Monsieur Bertram. Mais,dat Monsieur Bertram, be most 'straordinary man! He terriblementfrightened for every leetle ting, but him not fright von bit for bigting! Hims look at de sauvage dat hold him as if him be a lion. I dotink Monsieur Bertram vould fight vell if hims obleeged.

  "After good deal of consultoration an' disputerin', dey vas about for goavay; so I sit ver' still, but I move my foot von leetle morsil, an' vonsmall leaf fall to de ground. It vas ver' small leaf, but Hawksving himsee it. Ah! he be von cliver Injun. Ver' sharp in sight too! I tinkhim should be named Hawkseye. No von else notice it, but I seeHawksving visper to Big Valler. Dat man be sharp feller too. He turnshims back to de tree, nevair vonce looked up, but him burst into loudlaugh, like von tondre-clap, an' cry out, `Vell done, Gibault! Keepclose, old feller; their village is one day off towards the sun!' An'den he laugh again. Ah! ho! how my heart him jump ven he speak my name!But de Injuns tink hims yell out to some von cross de river, for himlooks dat vay. Vell, off dey go, and I begin to breathe more easy; butven dey git far-off, I hear the voice of Big Valler come back likefar-avay tondre, cryin', `Dey're goin' to roast us alive to-morrow; looksharp!' Dat vas de last I hear. Den de darkness come, an' den youcome, an', now, vat is to come nixt?"

  Poor Gibault spoke fast, and perspired very much, and looked wild andhaggard, for his nature was sensitive and sympathetic, and the idea ofhis comrades meeting with such a horrible fate was almost too much forhim.

  Bounce's honest face assumed an expression of deep anxiety, for, fertilethough his resources usually were, he could not at that moment conceivehow it was possible for two unarmed men, either by force or bystratagem, to rescue five comrades who were securely bound, and guardedby forty armed warriors, all of whom were trained from infancy in themidst of alarms that made caution and intense watchfulness second natureto them.

  "It looks bad," said Bounce, sitting down on a stone, clasping his hardhands together, and resting an elbow on each knee. "Sit ye down,Gibault. We'll think a bit, an' then go to work. That's wot we'll do--d'ye see?"

  "Non, I don't see," groaned Gibault. "Vat can ve do? Two to forty! Ifit was only swords ve had to fight vid--Hah! But, alas! we havenoting--dey have everyting."

  "True, lad, force won't do," returned Bounce; "an' yit," he added,knitting his brows, "if nothin' else 'll do, we'll try at least _howmuch_ force 'll do."

  After a short pause Bounce resumed, "Wos they tied very tight, Gibault?"

  "Oui. I see de cords deep in de wrists, an' poor Redhand seem to bever' moch stunned; he valk as if hims be dronk."

  "Drunk!" exclaimed Bounce, suddenly springing up as if he had receivedan electric shock, and seizing his companion by both shoulders, while,for a moment, he gazed eagerly into his eyes; then, pushing himviolently away, he turned round and darted along the bank of the river,crying, as he went, "Come along, Gibault; I'll tell ye wot's up as wego!"

  The astonished Canadian followed as fast as he could, and, in anexclamatory interjectional sort of way, his friend explained the plan ofrescue which he had suddenly conceived, and which was as follows:--

  First, he proposed to go back to the _cache_ at the foot of the talltree, and dig up the keg of brandy, with which he resolved to proceed tothe camp of the Indians, and, by some means or other, get the whole clanto drink until they should become intoxicated. Once in this condition,he felt assured they could be easily circumvented.

  Gibault grasped at this wild plan as a drowning man is said to grasp ata straw, and lent his aid right willingly to disentomb and carry thebrandy keg. Neither he nor Bounce knew whether there was enough brandyto intoxicate the whole tribe, but they had no time to inquire minutelyinto probabilities.

  Vigorously, perseveringly, without rest or halt, did these two trapperspursue their way that night, with the keg slung on a pole between them.The stars glimmered down through the trees upon their path, as if theywished them success in their enterprise. It was all-important that theyshould reach the Indian camp before daybreak; so, although footsore andweary from their late exertions after a long day's march, theynevertheless ran steadily on at a long swinging trot, which broughtthem, to their inexpressible joy, much sooner than they had anticipated,to their journey's end.

  It was two hours before dawn when they came suddenly upon the camp--sosuddenly that they had to crouch the instant they saw the watch-fires,in order to avoid being discovered.

  "Now, Gibault," whispered Bounce, "you'll have to remain here. Get intoa hiding-place as fast as you can, and keep close. You're clever enoughto know what to do, and when to do it. Only, lad, come near and haveyour knife handy when the row is at the loudest, and see that ye don'tlet the squaws cut out our livers when we're tied up."

  Gibault nodded significantly.

  "It's a curious fact," continued Bounce in a somewhat sad tone, "thatI'm more afraid o' the squaws than o' the men. Howsomdiver, it's got tobe done!"

  So saying, Bounce shouldered the keg, and shaking his comrade by thehand, as if he felt that he might be parting with him for ever, heglided into the darkness of the forest, leaving Gibault to secretehimself on the side of a mound, from which he could witness all thatwent on in the camp.

  From this point of observation the poor Canadian beheld what was notcalculated to allay his fears. The camp lay in a hollow, surrounded bytrees. On an open space were erected several leathern huts or tents, inthe midst of which blazed a large camp fire. Round this the fortywarriors were seated, eating their supper, while a number of squaws weresitting in the entrances to their tents variously engaged. Horseshobbled--that is, with the fore-feet tied together to prevent theirrunning away--were cropping the grass close to the tents. Not far fromthem, and within the circle of light cast around by the fire, stood agroup of small trees. To each of these was tied a man, and Gibault hadno difficulty in making them out to be his unfortunate comrades.

  Occasionally, as he gazed, one or two of the old Indian women went up tothese helpless men, with a yell of execration, and, brandishingscalping-knives before their faces, appeared as if about to plunge theminto their hearts; but their time had not yet come; the hags were onlyanticipating the feast of butchery that awaited them on the morrow.

  While Gibault was gazing at this scene with mingled feelings of anxiety,rage, and horror, the whole band of Indians suddenly sprang to theirfeet and seized their weapons. Almost at the same moment Bounce strodeinto the circle of light and deposited his cask on the ground. Then,making signs of peace, he advanced towards one of the Indians, who, fromhis dress and appearance, seemed to be the chief, and presented him witha piece of tobacco. The chief accepted the gift in silence.

  Bounce, who was well acquainted with many of the dialects of thatregion, had no difficulty in making himself understood. He stated thathe was a trapper, that he had come to that country to trade, and askedwhether his Indian friends had furs to dispose of. As he hadanticipated, the savages were in no mood to treat with a solitary manwho was entirely in their power. The chief, who evidently suspectedthat he was a friend of the prisoners, instead of replying, asked himsarcastically what he had in the keg.

  "Fire-water," replied Bounce unhesitatingly.

  At this the eyes of the savages sparkled with delight. Not deigning towaste more time with him, they seized the unfortunate trapper andconfronted him with his companions, gazing earnestly in their faces thewhile to observe whether they betrayed any sign of recognition.

  It said much for the self-control of these hardy men, that, althoughtheir comrade was thus suddenly and unexpectedly placed before them,they did not permit a muscle of their countenances to change, but gazedon him and on his captors with that expression of defiant contempt withwhich Indians usually meet their fate, and in which they are equalled,sometimes even outdone, by the unfortunate white trappers who chance tofall into their cruel hands.

  And well was it, for the success o
f the scheme, that Theodore Bertram'snerves had received such repeated and awful shocks that day, that theywere now incapable of feeling. He had been so terribly and repeatedlystruck with amazement that his features had assumed a settled expressionof surprise that could not be increased, so that when he beheld Bounce aprisoner before him, although he certainly felt astonishment, he couldby no means increase the expression of that sensation. The Indians,therefore, passed away from him with a howl of derision, and tied Bounceto a tree beside his comrades, concluding that, instead of a plotter,they had, in him, made another lucky capture. Anxiety to taste theirbeloved beverage had something to do with their haste in this matter, nodoubt.

  No one who has not seen it can conceive of the intense passion the NorthAmerican Indian has for ardent spirits. He seems to have no power ofrestraint whatever when the opportunity of indulging that passionpresents itself.

  The head of the keg was quickly knocked in, and the eyes of the savagesseemed positively to flash as they gazed upon the precious fluid. Thechief advanced first with a little tin mug, such as was sold to them bytraders, and drank a deep draught; he then handed the cup to another,but the impatience of the others could not be restrained--they crowdedround with their mugs, and dipping them into the keg drank eagerly,while the squaws, who loved the fire-water as much as did their masters,formed an outer circle, and, as patiently as they could, awaited theirturn. They knew full well that it would soon come.

  The Indians, being unaccustomed to frequent potations, were quicklymaddened by the spirit, which mounted to their brains and rushed throughtheir veins like wildfire, causing every nerve in their strong frames totingle. Their characteristic gravity and decorum vanished. Theylaughed, they danced, they sang, they yelled like a troop of incarnatefiends! Then they rushed in a body towards their prisoners, and began aspecies of war-dance round them, flourishing their tomahawks and knivesclose to their faces as if they were about to slay them; shrieking andhowling in the most unearthly manner, and using all those cruel devicesthat are practised by Red Indians to terrify those unfortunates whomthey intend ultimately to kill.

  Suddenly one of the warriors observed that the squaws were stealthilyapproaching the spirit keg, and rushed towards them with a howl of fury,followed by his comrades, who drove the women away and recommenceddrinking. And now a fiercer spirit seemed to seize upon the savages;old feuds and jealousies, that had long been cherished in silence, brokeirresistibly forth. Angry words and fierce looks were followed by thedrawing of knives. Suddenly a young man rushed upon a comrade andburied his knife in his heart. The piercing death-cry was followed bythe vengeful yell of the relatives of the murdered man, as they sprangupon the murderer. Others flew to the rescue, and the drunken _melee_became general. Blood began to flow freely, and there is no doubt thatmany lives would have been sacrificed had not the combatants been toomuch intoxicated to fight with vigour. Many of them fell prostrate andhelpless on attempting to rise. Others dealt their blows at random,staggering and falling one upon another, until they lay in a heap,shrieking, biting, tearing, and stabbing--a bloody struggling mass,which told more eloquently than tongue can tell, that, deep and lowthough savage human nature has fallen in sin and misery, there is adepth profounder still, to which even those who seem to be the lowestmay be precipitated by the fatal power of strong drink.

  And now Gibault Noir felt that it was time for him to draw near to thehorrible scene, in order to be ready, when the moment should arrive, torelease the prisoners, or to protect them in the event of any of thedrunken crew being tempted to a premature slaughter.

  The women were now actively interfering to prevent further bloodshed.Most of the Indians were already dead drunk. Only a few, whose powersof endurance were greater than those of their comrades, continued toshout their war-songs. When these were down, the women rushed at thespirits like wolves. Even the little children came out from the tentsand got their share. It was a terrible scene, such as has, alas! beenoften enacted before in the wilds of the Far West, and, doubtless, shallbe enacted again, unless (so-called) Christian traders give upfire-water as an article of traffic.

  In a very short space of time the women were as helpless as theirmasters. Then Gibault cut the thongs that bound his comrades, and setthem free!

  "Thanks, thanks to the Almighty," said Bertram earnestly, when his bondswere cut. "I had thought that my days were numbered; that it was to bemy sad fate to fill a grave here in the wilderness. But His hand isindeed mighty to save. And thanks be to you, good Gibault. Under God,we owe our lives to you."

  Bertram attempted to seize Gibault's hand as he spoke, but his own handsrefused obedience to his will. They had been so long and so tightlybound that they were utterly powerless.

  "Rub 'em, rub 'em well," said Gibault, seizing the artist's hands andenforcing his own recommendation vigorously.

  "Ay, that's it," said Redhand, who, with his companions, had, theinstant he was loose, commenced to rub and chafe his own benumbed limbsinto vitality, as if his life and theirs depended on their exertions--asindeed they did to no small extent, for, had they been called upon tofight or fly at that moment, they could have done neither.

  "Now, lads," said Bounce, who, having been a prisoner for but a shorttime, was unhurt by his bonds, "while ye rub the life into yer limbsI'll tell ye wot we must do. Them scamps (pointing to the prostrateIndians) won't lie there long. Of course, bein' white men an'Christians, we don't mean to kill them or to lift their scalps--"

  "I've know'd white men," interrupted Redhand, "who called themselvesChristians, and didn't object to take scalps when they got the chance."

  "So have I," returned Bounce, "an' more's the pity. It's sichlikeblackguards as these that keeps honest trappers and fur-traders for iverin hot water here. Howsomdiver, we're not a-goin' to turn ourselvesinto brute beasts 'cause they've turned theirselves into sich."

  "I'm not so sure o' that," broke in Big Waller, casting a scowlingglance on the savages as he surveyed a wound in his left arm, which,although not serious, was, from want of dressing, sufficiently painful;"I calc'late it would serve them reptiles right if we was to whangskiverthe whole on 'em as they lie."

  "I don't b'lieve," retorted Bounce, "that `_whangskiver_' is eitherEnglish, Injun, French, or Yankee; but if it means _killin'_, you'll donothing o' the sort. Here's what we'll do. We'll ketch as many horsesas wos took from Mr Bertram's fellers, an' as many guns too (the sameones if we can lay hands on 'em), an' as much powder an' shot an' otherthings as that keg o' brandy is worth, an' then we'll bid the redskinsgood-bye without wakenin' of 'em up."

  "Goot," ejaculated Gibault, pausing in his manipulation of the artist,"now you can do!"

  "Capital; thanks, I feel quite strong again."

  "I say, Gibault," observed March ruefully, "they've almost sawed throughthe skin o' my ankle. I've no left foot at all, as far as feelin'goes."

  "Hah! me boy, 'tis well you have foot left, though you not feel leftfoot! Let me see."

  "That's it, Gibault, rub away; if your jokes were as good as yoursurgery you'd be too good, a long way, for the backwoods."

  By dint of chafing and rubbing and leaping and stamping, the whole partywere soon restored to a serviceable condition, after which they setabout active preparations for departure.

  First, they ransacked the tents, where they discovered all the guns thathad been taken from Bertram's party. These they tied up in a bundle,after each had secured one for his own use. Among them the artistfound, to his intense delight, his own double-barrelled gun, the loss ofwhich he had mourned most sincerely.

  Next, they secured the horses, which, being hobbled, as we have saidelsewhere, were easily caught. Then the powder-horns and shot-belts ofBertram's party were found, and, being full of ammunition, were slungacross their shoulders forthwith. Among other things belonging to thesame party were discovered a number of blankets, some tea and sugar, anda variety of other useful articles, besides several packs of furs; allof which were made
up into portable bundles that could be easily carriedat their saddle-bows. The supply of everything was so ample that it wasnot necessary to touch a single article belonging to the Indians.

  This was a matter of much satisfaction to Redhand, who wished to showthese unfortunate children of the wilderness that there were at leastsome white trappers who were actuated by different and kindlier feelingsthan many who sought their livelihood in those regions.

  "Hullo! wot have we here?" cried Big Waller, who was pokinginquisitively about among the tents, to the consternation of the poorIndian children who lay huddled up in their rabbit-skin blankets,trembling from head to foot, and expecting to be scalped forthwith--suchof them, at least, as were old enough to expect anything. "Here's yourblunderbusses, I guess, mister."

  "What! my pistols," cried Bertram, seizing his weapons with as muchdelight as if they had been really serviceable.

  "Hah! ver' goot for play vid," observed Gibault contemptuously.

  "I say, here's something else," said Bounce, picking up a rifle.

  "Wah!" exclaimed Hawkswing, pointing to the weapon in surprise, andturning his eyes on Redhand.

  "Wot! d'ye know who it b'long'd to?" inquired Bounce.

  An expression of deep sorrow overspread Redhand's countenance. "Ay,"said he mournfully, "I know it well. It belonged to young Blake."Glancing quickly up at a place where several scalps were hanging to apole, he took one down, and, after gazing at it sadly for a few seconds,he added in a tone of deep melancholy: "Poor, poor Blake! ye had ahearty spirit an' a kindly heart. Your huntin' days were soon over!"

  "Was he a friend of yours?" inquired Bertram, affected by the oldtrapper's look and tone.

  "Ay, ay, he was, he was," said Redhand quickly, and with a sternness ofmanner that surprised his companions; "come, lads, mount! mount! Theredskins won't part with plunder without making an effort to get itback."

  "But, stop a bit, Redhand," cried Bounce, detaining the old man, "yedidn't use for to be so hot an' hasty. Where are we to go to? That'swot I want to know."

  "True," observed Redhand in his old gentle tones, "we've more horsesthan we need, and some furs to dispose of. There's a tradin' fort inthe mountains, but it's a good bit from this."

  "What o' that?" said March Marston somewhat impetuously. "Are we notarmed and well mounted and strong, and have we not lots o' time beforeus?"

  "Well said," cried Bounce.

  "Ditto," echoed Waller.

  "Then we'll do it!" cried Redhand, vaulting into the saddle with aspring that a young man might have envied.

  The others followed his example, and in a few seconds they were pickingtheir way carefully down the ravine in which the Indian camp wassituated. Leaving this quickly behind, they trotted briskly along themore open banks of the river until they gained a level sweep of landwhich terminated in a belt of low bushes. Beyond this lay the greatplains. Breaking into a gallop, they speedily cleared the underwood,and just as the rosy smile of morning beamed in the eastern sky, theydashed away, with light hearts and loose reins, out upon the springyturf of the open prairie.