tramp of
their mettlesome chargers. It was a scene of wild,
luxuriant beauty, that might almost (one could fancy)
have drawn involuntary homage to its bountiful Creator
from the lips even of an infidel.

After a time Joe Blunt reined up, and they proceeded
at an easy ambling pace. Joe and his friend Henri
were so used to these beautiful scenes that they had
long ceased to be enthusiastically affected by them,
though they never ceased to delight in them.

"I hope," said Joe, "that them sodgers'll go their
ways soon. I've no notion o' them chaps when they're
left at a place wi' nothin' to do but whittle sticks."

"Why, Joe!" exclaimed Dick Varley in a tone of
surprise, "I thought you were admirin' the beautiful
face o' nature all this time, and ye're only thinkin' about
the sodgers. Now, that's strange!"

"Not so strange after all, lad," answered Joe. "When
a man's used to a thing, he gits to admire an' enjoy it
without speakin' much about it. But it is true, boy,
that mankind gits in coorse o' time to think little o'
the blissin's he's used to."

"Oui, c'est vrai!" murmured Henri emphatically.

"Well, Joe Blunt, it may be so, but I'm thankful
I'm not used to this sort o' thing yet," exclaimed
Varley. "Let's have another gallop--so ho! come
along, Crusoe!" shouted the youth as he shook his reins
and flew over a long stretch of prairie on which at that
moment they entered.

Joe smiled as he followed his enthusiastic companion,
but after a short run he pulled up.

"Hold on, youngster," he cried; "ye must larn to do
as ye're bid, lad. It's trouble enough to be among wild
Injuns and wild buffaloes, as I hope soon to be, without
havin' wild comrades to look after."

Dick laughed, and reined in his panting horse. "I'll
be as obedient as Crusoe," he said, "and no one can
beat him."

"Besides," continued Joe, "the horses won't travel
far if we begin by runnin' all the wind out o'
them."

"Wah!" exclaimed Henri, as the led horse became
restive; "I think we must give to him de pack-hoss for
to lead, eh?"

"Not a bad notion, Henri. We'll make that the
penalty of runnin' off again; so look out, Master Dick."

"I'm down," replied Dick, with a modest air, "obedient
as a baby, and won't run off again--till--the
next time. By the way, Joe, how many days' provisions
did ye bring?"

"Two. That's 'nough to carry us to the Great
Prairie, which is three weeks distant from this. Our
own good rifles must make up the difference, and keep
us when we get there."

"And s'pose we neither find deer nor buffalo," suggested
Dick.

"I s'pose we'll have to starve."

"Dat is cumfer'able to tink upon," remarked Henri.

"More comfortable to think o' than to undergo," said
Dick; "but I s'pose there's little chance o' that."

"Well, not much," replied Joe Blunt, patting his
horse's neck, "but d'ye see, lad, ye niver can count for
sartin on anythin'. The deer and buffalo ought to be
thick in them plains at this time--and when the buffalo
are thick they covers the plains till ye can hardly see
the end o' them; but, ye see, sometimes the rascally
Redskins takes it into their heads to burn the prairies,
and sometimes ye find the place that should ha' bin
black wi' buffalo, black as a coal wi' fire for miles an'
miles on end. At other times the Redskins go huntin'
in 'ticlur places, and sweeps them clean o' every hoof
that don't git away. Sometimes, too, the animals seems
to take a scunner at a place, and keeps out o' the way.
But one way or another men gin' rally manage to
scramble through."

"Look yonder, Joe," exclaimed Dick, pointing to the
summit of a distant ridge, where a small black object
was seen moving against the sky, "that's a deer, ain't
it?"

Joe shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestly
at the object in question. "Ye're right, boy; and by
good luck we've got the wind of him. Cut in an' take
your chance now. There's a long strip o' wood as'll
let ye git close to him."

Before the sentence was well finished Dick and
Crusoe were off at full gallop. For a few hundred
yards they coursed along the bottom of a hollow; then
turning to the right they entered the strip of wood, and
in a few minutes gained the edge of it. Here Dick
dismounted.

"You can't help me here, Crusoe. Stay where you
are, pup, and hold my horse."

Crusoe seized the end of the line, which was fastened
to the horse's nose, in his mouth, and lay down on
a hillock of moss, submissively placing his chin on his
forepaws, and watching his master as he stepped noiselessly
through the wood. In a few minutes Dick
emerged from among the trees, and creeping from bush
to bush, succeeded in getting to within six hundred
yards of the deer, which was a beautiful little antelope.
Beyond the bush behind which he now crouched all was
bare open ground, without a shrub or a hillock large
enough to conceal the hunter. There was a slight undulation
in the ground, however, which enabled him to
advance about fifty yards farther, by means of lying
down quite flat and working himself forward like a serpent.
Farther than this he could not move without
being seen by the antelope, which browsed on the ridge
before him in fancied security. The distance was too
great even for a long shot; but Dick knew of a weak
point in this little creature's nature which enabled him
to accomplish his purpose--a weak point which it shares
in common with animals of a higher order--namely,
curiosity.

The little antelope of the North American prairies is
intensely curious about everything that it does not
quite understand, and will not rest satisfied until it has
endeavoured to clear up the mystery. Availing himself
of this propensity, Dick did what both Indians and
hunters are accustomed to do on these occasions--he
put a piece of rag on the end of his ramrod, and keeping
his person concealed and perfectly still, waved this
miniature flag in the air. The antelope noticed it at
once, and, pricking up its ears, began to advance, timidly
and slowly, step by step, to see what remarkable phenomenon
it could be. In a few seconds the flag was
lowered, a sharp crack followed, and the antelope fell
dead upon the plain.

"Ha, boy! that's a good supper, anyhow," cried Joe,
as he galloped up and dismounted.

"Goot! dat is better nor dried meat," added Henri.
"Give him to me; I will put him on my hoss, vich is
strongar dan yourn. But ver is your hoss?"

"He'll be here in a minute," replied Dick, putting his
fingers to his mouth and giving forth a shrill whistle.

The instant Crusoe heard the sound he made a savage
and apparently uncalled-for dash at the horse's heels.
This wild act, so contrary to the dog's gentle nature, was
a mere piece of acting. He knew that the horse would
not advance without getting a fright, so he gave him
one in this way, which sent him off at a gallop. Crusoe
followed close at his heels, so as to bring the line alongside
of the nag's body, and thereby prevent its getting
entangled; but despite his best efforts the horse got on
one side of a tree and he on the other, so he wisely let
go his hold of the line, and waited till more open ground
enabled him to catch it again. Then he hung heavily
back, gradually checked the horse's speed, and finally
trotted him up to his master's side.

"'Tis a cliver cur, good sooth," exclaimed Joe Blunt
in surprise.

"Ah, Joe! you haven't seen much of Crusoe yet.
He's as good as a man any day. I've done little else
but train him for two years gone by, and he can do
most anything but shoot--he can't handle the rifle
nohow."

"Ha! then, I tink perhaps hims could if he wos try,"
said Henri, plunging on to his horse with a laugh, and
arranging the carcass of the antelope across the pommel
of his saddle.

Thus they hunted and galloped, and trotted and
ambled on through wood and plain all day, until the
sun began to descend below the tree-tops of the bluffs
on the west. Then Joe Blunt looked about him for a
place on which to camp, and finally fixed on a spot
under the shadow of a noble birch by the margin of a
little stream. The carpet of grass on its banks was soft
like green velvet, and the rippling waters of the brook
were clear as crystal--very different from the muddy
Missouri into which it flowed.

While Dick Varley felled and cut up firewood, Henri
unpacked the horses and turned them loose to graze,
and Joe kindled the fire and prepared venison steaks
and hot tea for supper.

In excursions of this kind it is customary to "hobble"
the horses--that is, to tie their fore-legs together, so
that they cannot run either fast or far, but are free
enough to amble about with a clumsy sort of hop in
search of food. This is deemed a sufficient check on
their tendency to roam, although some of the knowing
horses sometimes learn to hop so fast with their hobbles
as to give their owners much trouble to recapture them.
But when out in the prairies where Indians are known
or supposed to be in the neighbourhood, the horses are
picketed by means of a pin or stake attached to the
ends of their long lariats, as well as hobbled; for Indians
deem it no disgrace to steal or tell lies, though
they think it disgraceful to be found out in doing either.
And so expert are these dark-skinned natives of the
western prairies, that they will creep into the midst of
an enemy's camp, cut the lariats and hobbles of several
horses, spring suddenly on their backs, and gallop away.

They not only steal from white men, but tribes that
are at enmity steal from each other, and the boldness
with which they do this is most remarkable. When
Indians are travelling in a country where enemies are
prowling, they guard their camps at night with jealous
care. The horses in particular are both hobbled and
picketed, and sentries are posted all round the camp.
Yet, in spite of these precautions, hostile Indians manage
to elude the sentries and creep into the camp. When a
thief thus succeeds in effecting an entrance, his chief
danger is past. He rises boldly to his feet, and wrapping
his blanket or buffalo robe round him, he walks up
and down as if he were a member of the tribe. At the
same time he dexterously cuts the lariats of such horses
as he observes are not hobbled. He dare not stoop to
cut the hobbles, as the action would be observed, and
suspicion would be instantly aroused. He then leaps
on the best horse he can find, and uttering a terrific
war-whoop darts away into the plains, driving the loosened
horses before him.

No such dark thieves were supposed to be near the
camp under the birch-tree, however, so Joe, and Dick,
and Henri ate their supper in comfort, and let their
horses browse at will on the rich pasturage.

A bright ruddy fire was soon kindled, which created,
as it were, a little ball of light in the midst of surrounding
darkness for the special use of our hardy hunters.
Within this magic circle all was warm, comfortable, and
cheery; outside all was dark, and cold, and dreary by
contrast.

When the substantial part of supper was disposed of,
tea and pipes were introduced, and conversation began
to flow. Then the three saddles were placed in a row;
each hunter wrapped himself in his blanket, and pillowing
his head on his saddle, stretched his feet towards
the fire and went to sleep, with his loaded rifle by his
side and his hunting-knife handy in his belt. Crusoe
mounted guard by stretching himself out couchant at
Dick Varley's side. The faithful dog slept lightly, and
never moved all night; but had any one observed him
closely he would have seen that every fitful flame that
burst from the sinking fire, every unusual puff of wind,
and every motion of the horses that fed or rested hard
by, had the effect of revealing a speck of glittering
white in Crusoe's watchful eye.