The Robbers Foiled.

FRANK NELSON SERIES

SNOWED UP;
OR, THE
SPORTSMAN’S CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS.

By HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES,” “ROCKY
MOUNTAIN SERIES,” &C.
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,
PHILADELPHIA,
CHICAGO,   TORONTO.

FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.

• GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 6 vols. 12mo.
• Frank the Young Naturalist.
• Frank in the Woods.
• Frank on the Lower Mississippi.
• Frank on a Gunboat.
• Frank before Vicksburg.
• Frank on the Prairie.
• ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
• Frank among the Rancheros.
• Frank in the Mountains.
• Frank at Don Carlos’ Ranch.
• SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
• The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle.
• The Sportsman’s Club Afloat.
• The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers.
• FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
• Snowed Up.
• Frank in the Forecastle.
• The Boy Traders.
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• The Buried Treasure.
• The Boy Trapper.
• The Mail-Carrier.
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• George at the Wheel.
• George at the Fort.
• ROD AND GUN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
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• Rod and Gun Club.
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• True to his Colors.
• Rodney the Overseer.
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• Rodney the Partisan.
• Marcy the Blockade-Runner.

Other Volumes in Preparation.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by
R. W. CARROLL & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Copyright, 1904, by Charles A. Fosdick.

CONTENTS.

SNOWED UP;
OR, THE
SPORTSMAN’S CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER I.
A DISPUTE.

“Did you ever hear tell of sich a thing afore, Zack?”

“I never did in all my born days—never! The idee of this little snipe comin’ out here, fresh from the States, an’ tellin’ a man like me, what’s done nothin’ but guide wagon-trains acrosst the prairie fur the last ten years—the idee of his tellin’ me that I am losin’ the hul kit an’ bilin’ of you, an’ that I am doin’ it a purpose! I say it’s ridikilis, an’ I won’t stand it. Here, Sile, hold my gun till I make him chaw them words of his’n!”

“You are very much mistaken in me, my friend,” replied a calm voice, which contrasted strangely with the excited guide’s insolent tones. “I may be fresh from the States, but I have seen more of prairie life than you seem to imagine. At any rate, I know enough about it to be sure that you are not on the road to the Fort.”

This conversation took place one bright morning, between our old friend Archie Winters, and two rough looking frontiersmen, who answered to the names of Zack and Silas. The latter stood leaning on his rifle, and glaring down at the boy before him as if he meant to destroy him by the angry glances from his eyes, while Zack was rolling up his sleeves and making other demonstrations which showed a desire on his part to fight somebody. Close by Archie’s side were his two inseparable companions, Fred Craven and Eugene Gaylord, who sat in their saddles, being mounted on the same horses they had ridden from Salt Lake City to Fort Bolton. Eugene held Archie’s old horse by the bridle, while Archie’s attention was about equally divided between the two trappers and a small bay steed, with black points and a white star in his forehead, to which he was clinging with both hands. The horse bore Archie’s saddle strapped firmly on his back, and was kept in partial subjection by a rawhide lasso, which was twisted tightly about his lower jaw, the ends being passed over the animal’s neck and around the horn of the saddle to serve as a bridle. Like Roderick and King James, this horse had a history which shall be related in due time.

Around this group which we have described were gathered a dozen or more emigrants, men, women and children, who waited impatiently to hear what would be said next, and looked first at the guides and then at Archie, as if trying to discover something in their faces that would aid them in deciding between the disputants. A little distance away stood two wagons, the mules and oxen harnessed and yoked and ready to start; but there was a wide difference of opinion between Archie and the guides on a matter that was of vital importance to the emigrants, and they could not think of resuming their journey until it had been settled.

Having made his preparations for a pugilistic encounter, with as much care and deliberation as he would have exhibited had he been about to measure strength with a person of his own stature and weight, Zack once more addressed himself to Archie.

“We was all quiet an’ peaceable like till you come,” said he; “but since you dropped down amongst us all of a sudden, like you had come from the clouds, an’ without nobody’s askin’ you to come, thar’s been a rumpus goin’ on the hul time.”

“The rumpus, as you call it, was all raised by you,” returned Archie. “You’ve had a good many remarks to make about us, but we have kept silent.”

“Now you can jest toddle off about your business, if you’ve got any,” coutinued Zack, “or take what follows. I haint agoin’ to waste no time a waitin’ on you, nuther.”

“We have business,” answered Archie, “but we are in no great hurry to attend to it. The prairie is as free to us as it is to you, and when we get tired of staying here, we’re going to Fort Bolton.”

“So be we,” said Zack.

“How far do you call it from here?” asked Archie.

“A matter of thirty miles, mebbe.”

“And which way?”

“Off thar,” said Zack, extending his arm toward the north-west.

“Well, I say it is off there,” replied Archie, pointing in just the opposite direction, “and distant about three days’ journey. I ought to know, for I have just come from there.”

“What brought you so far away from the Fort?” asked one of the emigrants.

“As we told you last night, we have been following a drove of wild horses, trying to catch one of them.”

“An’ as we told you last night, that’s a likely story,” said Zack, glancing at Silas, who nodded assent. “You’re purty lookin’ fellers to ketch a wild hoss, haint you now!”

“Well, here’s the horse, any how,” returned Archie, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the animal he was holding. “If you don’t believe he is wild, just put yourself within reach of his heels, if you dare. We followed the drove he was in for three days and more, and that’s what brought us so far from the Fort.”

“An’ that’s how you come to be teetotally turned round an’ lost,” added Zack. “You fellers can do as you like about it, but I tell you that if you foller them young cubs you’ll never see Fort Bolton the longest day you live.”

This last remark was called forth by a movement on the part of the emigrants, who, in response to a sign from one of their number, drew a little apart to hold a consultation. Their actions led Zack to mistrust that they were on the point of deciding against him, and this seemed to increase the feelings of animosity which, for some unaccountable reason, he had shown toward Archie and his friends ever since they first appeared in the emigrant camp.

“If they do go with you I’ll allow they won’t have much to foller,” said Zack, in savage tones, “cause I’ll wallop you till thar ain’t nothing left of you.”

“I don’t see why you should want to do that,” answered Archie. “These people are nothing to you, and it can make no difference to you whether they go your way or mine.”

“Then what odds does it make to you?” demanded Silas.

“None whatever. They told us they wanted to go to Bolton, and as we were going right there we offered to show them the way.”

“More like you want to show ’em the way to some place in the mountains whar you can rob ’em,” snapped Zack.

“O, come now,” returned Archie, “that’s rather too far-fetched. I’ve seen whole families composed of such as you. There are some of them in irons now at the Fort.”

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Zack.

“I mean that there are some men of your calling in irons now in Fort Bolton,” repeated Archie, not in the least terrified by the expression of almost ungovernable fury which settled on the man’s face. “That’s what I mean. Have a care,” he added, as Zack dashed his hat upon the ground with an angry exclamation and started fiercely toward him. “I have a friend here who will not see me imposed upon.”

As Archie spoke he swung himself around beside the horse he was holding, which, believing no doubt that the boy was about to mount him, turned swiftly, thus presenting his heels toward the advancing guide, who halted very suddenly.

“He knows how to handle his feet,” continued Archie, “and I believe he can kick your hat off your head the first time trying. Suppose you put it on and let him make the attempt.”

Zack did not see fit to accept this proposition, and neither did he renew his hostile demonstrations. Whether it was because he did not think it quite safe to trust himself too close to the horse’s heels, or for the reason that he did not like the looks of the sixteen-shooters which Eugene and Featherweight promptly unslung from their backs, we have no means of knowing. Perhaps it was because the emigrants had brought their consultation to an end, and having decided upon their course, came up to announce what it was.

“Are you sure you are right?” asked an old white-headed man, addressing himself to Archie.

“Yes, sir, as sure as I can be,” was the reply. “We have taken pains to keep our bearings, and I am certain that if we have no bad luck, we shall be in Bolton in less than three days. We shall travel as nearly south-east as we can to get there, too.”

“Well, we have concluded to trust ourselves to you. Bring on the wagons, boys.”

“You’ll never see the Fort,” said Zack, whose rage was so great that he could scarcely make himself understood.

None of the emigrants made any reply. The women and children were assisted into the wagons, and the drivers climbed to their seats and drove after Eugene and Featherweight, who rode off over the prairie. Archie had some difficulty in mounting his steed, for the animal persisted in keeping his head toward him, and it was only after repeated efforts that the boy managed to seize the horn of the saddle and swung himself upon the horse’s back. Even after he got there the animal did not seem disposed to permit him to remain, for he straightway began to kick and plunge furiously. But Archie had not lived among the Rancheros of California for nothing. By thrusting the long rowels of his Mexican spurs through the hair-girth with which his saddle was strapped to the horse’s back, he was able to keep a secure seat in spite of the furious efforts made to dislodge him; and when at last his nag was wearied with his fruitless struggles, he urged him into a lope, and in a few seconds drew up beside his friends at the head of the wagon-train.

CHAPTER II.
WHAT ARCHIE KNEW ABOUT MONEY.

The gray-headed man before spoken of, whom the boys had put down as the father of one of the two stalwart young men who were driving the wagons, was riding Archie’s old horse, which Eugene had offered him, and was talking earnestly with Fred and his companion. It was plain that the subject of their conversation was either an exciting or an alarming one, for the old man’s face was as white as a sheet, and his voice trembled when he addressed Archie.

“Do you think those men were wilfully misleading us, or that they were lost like ourselves?” he asked.

“They certainly were not lost,” answered Archie. “Men of their stamp don’t get lost on the prairies.”

“What object could they have had in view in taking us so far out of our way?”

“I am sure I do not know, unless they had reason to believe that there is something of value in your wagons.”

“Did they mean to rob us?” cried the old man, in great alarm.

“Their actions were suspicious, to say the least,” returned Archie, who did not care to say anything that would add to the old man’s terror. “But you are safe from them now. If they come about your camp again, all you have to do is to order them away.”

“I certainly have something of value with me,” continued the emigrant, after a moment’s pause, “and I am not afraid to trust you with the secret, for you look honest. There’s a million dollars and more in that first wagon.”

“Whew!” whistled Archie. “And did they know it?”

“They did, for I told them.”

“Well, I wish you hadn’t done it.”

That was what Archie said aloud; but to himself he added: “You ought to have a guardian appointed for you, old as you are.”

The emigrant said nothing after this. The knowledge that he had harbored robbers in his camp for the last three days made a deep impression on him, and he gradually fell back beside the wagons, where he seemed resolved to remain. He wanted to keep a sharp eye on his treasure.

“That is the most simple thing that a grown person was ever guilty of,” said Archie, as soon as the old man was out of hearing. “Why couldn’t he keep still? I’ll tell you what’s a fact, fellows,” he added, after thinking a moment, “if there are any more men like Zack and Sile loose in this neighborhood, I’d rather be alone on the prairie than to stay with these wagons.”

“Do you think we shall see them again?” inquired Eugene.

“Do you suppose that men like those will let so much money slip through their fingers if they can help it?” asked Archie, in reply.

“More than a million dollars,” exclaimed Featherweight. “What shape is it in, I wonder?”

“If I had that amount of money, I’d travel in a little better style than he does,” said Eugene. “He and his family are all in rags, and his mules and oxen look like the breaking up of a hard winter. He’s an old miser.”

“He may have an object in it,” said Featherweight. “Perhaps he doesn’t want any one to suspect that he is worth so much.”

“Then why does he go and tell it?” demanded Eugene. “I wonder if it is in gold or silver!”

“Neither,” said Archie.

“How do you know?”

“I just guess at it.”

“But you must have something to go by in your guessing. I wonder how much a million dollars in gold would weigh!”

“If it was in eagles, it wouldn’t fall very far short of thirty-five hundred pound, avoirdupois,” said Archie.

“How much?” cried both the boys, opening their eyes wide with amazement.

Archie repeated his statement, adding:

“You know that such articles as gold, silver and precious stones are weighed by Troy weight. If you could put a hundred thousand gold eagles (that would be just a million dollars) on one side of a jeweller’s scales, it would take a four thousand pound weight on the other to balance them.”[^A]

“Well, there’s no such weight in that rickety old wagon,” said Eugene, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. “It wouldn’t hold it up. It must be in greenbacks.”

“How large an amount in greenbacks do you suppose you could carry?” asked Archie. “I mean in small bills, ranging from ones up to twenties.”

“O, I could carry all you could pile on me,” said Fred, confidently, “two or three million, probably.”

“Yes, and five or six million,” said Eugene.

“That’s much better than I can do,” said Archie, with a laugh, “and while I was in the Fleet Paymaster’s office during the war, I had more than one opportunity to try my hand at it. We used to get drafts from Washington on the sub-treasury in St. Louis, calling for two hundred thousand dollars. When the chief went up to draw the money I generally went with him, taking with me two large carpet-bags to bring the greenbacks home in. The money was put up in square packages of such size that two of them were all I could get into each carpet-bag. It was my business, after the money was drawn, to look out for it until we reached Cairo. In carrying it from the sub-treasury to the Planter’s House, where we always stopped—I forget just how many blocks I had to walk—I was always obliged to rest at least once on the way, and to put the carpet-bags down for a minute or two on the steps of the hotel before going up to my room.”

“And only two hundred thousand dollars in them?” cried Fred.

“Are greenbacks as heavy as that?” exclaimed Eugene.

“They made my arms ache, I assure you,” replied Archie, “and I was glad when they were safe in the strong box at Cairo. Now, judging by that, how much do you think a million in small bills would weigh?”

“O, I’ll not make a guess,” said Featherweight. “I don’t want to show how ignorant I am.”

“Do you suppose you could lift it?”

“Well—no; could I?”

“Hardly; and to prove it to you, I will tell you a little circumstance. You perhaps remember that during the war the steamer Ruth was burned, having on board about four and a half millions of dollars, intended for the payment of the troops stationed along the river. She was supposed to have been set on fire by some members of the rebel secret service; but when it got abroad that the money was all lost, people began to accuse the paymasters who had charge of it with being in some way mixed up with its disappearance. Everybody knows that when a Mississippi river steamer gets on fire she burns like so much paper; but still there were those who thought that the money might have been brought off. Why didn’t the paymasters—there were four of them, and that would have been just about a million apiece—save it while they were saving themselves? There were plenty of soldiers to guard it, and why didn’t some of them catch it up and swim ashore with it? It could have been easily done, so people said, and the fact that it was not done started the story that the money was not on board the Ruth at all—the paymasters had pocketed it, and burned the boat to cover its loss.

“About this time it so happened that our chief went to St. Louis alone after money; but having forgotten the draft, he telegraphed to me to bring it up to him. I left Cairo on Sunday afternoon, and not being able to make connections at Odin, was obliged to stop over until the next morning. The only hotel in the town being full, the proprietor put me into a room with a gentleman in citizen’s clothes, who had in his possession a cigar box which he handled as carefully as if it had been a torpedo. Having so valuable a piece of paper about me, I was, of course, somewhat particular as to the company I kept. I was naturally anxious to know something about my room-mate, and a reference to the hotel register showed me that he was an army paymaster. Of course, I felt perfectly safe in his presence after I found that out. I scraped an acquaintance with him, and he turned out to be one of the paymasters who was on board the Ruth when she was burned. Before we retired he showed me the contents of his box. It was the charred remains of a package of greenbacks which he had recovered from the wreck, and which he was taking to Washington to prove to the authorities there that the money had really been destroyed.”

“Did he tell you why it was not saved?” asked Eugene.

“He did, and the reason was this: The money was packed away in four iron-bound boxes, each of which was so large and heavy that it took eight men to carry it from the forecastle up the stairs to the boiler deck where the money was kept under guard. Wouldn’t a paymaster have looked nice swimming ashore with one of those boxes under his arm?”

The two boys gazed at Archie a moment in mute surprise, and then faced about with a common impulse and looked at the wagon behind them in which the emigrant said his treasure was stowed away. Whatever it was, it must have been something that did not weigh much, for the mules walked along easily and rapidly, and their traces were slack more than half of the time. The boys had learned something. Their curiosity had been aroused too, and they were impatient for the camping hour to arrive in order that they might, if possible, obtain a glimpse of the box containing the emigrant’s wealth. What could it be? And with this inquiry arose another. Since the emigrant had been so very imprudent as to tell Zack and Silas that he had something with him worth a million dollars, was not the vicinity of that wagon-train a dangerous place for them? The boys began to think so, and to wish most heartily that they had never seen it.

[A] There may be those who will be as surprised to read this as Fred and Eugene were to hear it. If they doubt the accuracy of Archie’s statement, and will go to the trouble to make a calculation, taking as a basis the weight of a gold eagle, which is about 11 pwts. and 6 grs., and bearing in mind that a pound Troy contains 5760 grains and a pound avoirdupois 7000 grains, they will find that he spoke within bounds.

CHAPTER III.
ARCHIE MAKES A TRADE.

The last time we saw the Sportsman’s Club, as we have already said—when we speak of the Club now we include all our friends who left Bellville in the Stranger for a voyage around the world—they were located in their camp a short distance from Fort Bolton, having just been joined by Dick Lewis and old Bob Kelly, the famous trappers, who held so high a place in the estimation and affections of Frank and his cousin Archie. All our friends now, from the old sailor down, had a warm place in their hearts for them, for it was by their assistance that Walter had been rescued from the most dangerous situation in which he had ever been placed.

It was not likely that the Club would ever forget the thrilling adventures through which they had so recently passed. If they desired to bring them more vividly to mind, all they had to do was to go up to the Fort and take a look at the outlaws, who were there confined in irons and under guard, or ride down the gully to Potter’s rancho, where the final scenes in the drama had been enacted.

The Club never grew tired of visiting the rancho. They spent many an hour there, exploring every nook and corner of the building, and more than one article of plunder which had there been secreted, did they find and give into Colonel Gaylord’s possession. Everything that had fallen to the share of Dick Lewis and old Bob had been carefully preserved, and was also given into the charge of the commandant, to be returned to its lawful owners, if they should ever be found. Each boy retained a few things of no particular value, to remind him of the robber band, and Frank kept the horse Potter had presented to him. He told the colonel how he came by him, and the colonel said it was all right. Frank had borne a prominent part in the exciting scenes that had transpired during the last few days, and the colonel probably thought it no more than right that he should be allowed to keep the horse, as a small reward for his services.

This horse was the occasion of a spirited controversy and rivalry, which straightway arose between the cousins, and was similar to that which had taken place when they first came upon the prairie, years ago. Frank thought much of his new acquisition, which was really a magnificent animal, and boasted of his qualities, while Archie made light of them, challenged him to a race, and was badly beaten for his pains. Then Archie borrowed every fast horse about the Fort that he could hear of, and ran him against the black, which left them behind, one and all, so easily that it was really provoking. Even Dick’s fine nag, the one Frank had stolen out from under the rifles of the herders, and which his owner declared could not be beaten by anything that stood on four feet, was distanced, and Archie, Eugene and Featherweight—of course these two sided with Archie in everything—laid their heads together and declared that something must be done. What that something was that ought to be done they could not make up their minds, until one day Eugene, who was strolling about the Fort, examining everything there with as much interest as though he had never seen it before, accidentally overheard a conversation between Frank and Lieutenant Gaylord which suggested something to him. There had been a race that morning between the cousins, Archie being mounted on Dick’s horse, in which Frank as usual came out ahead, and he and the lieutenant, who were fast friends, were having a hearty laugh over it.

“That’s a fine animal of yours, Nelson,” said the young officer, “but there never was a horse yet so swift that some other couldn’t beat him. I know where there are two, and I can put my hand on one of them almost any day, which can take him down in a mile race, as easily as falling off a log.”

“Where are they?” asked Frank.

“One of them belongs to a one-eyed Indian who comes to the Fort occasionally. He is a mouse-colored animal, spotted all over with white, and looks odd enough at a distance; but he is pretty when you get close to him, and is as fleet as an antelope.”

“And the other?”

“He belongs to father; but he doesn’t do him much good, seeing that he has not set eyes on him for three months.”

“Was he stolen?” asked Frank.

“No; he escaped and joined a drove of wild horses.”

“Then there is no danger that Archie will get hold of him.”

“None whatever.”

“And how about this Indian’s horse? Couldn’t he buy him?”

“No. There isn’t an officer about the fort who has not tried to purchase him, but the owner will not sell him. These Indians know a good horse when they see him as well as a white man does. They are like the Arabs. They will sell any of their old hacks, but their best stock they keep for their own use.”

This was all Eugene could catch of the conversation, but it was quite enough to set him to thinking. He hurried back to the camp, to find Fred and Archie, and taking them off on one side, told them what he had heard.

“I only hope that horse will come about while we are here,” said Archie.

“So do I,” replied Eugene. “We’ll try our best to buy him. It is no sign that we should fail because others have done so. We may have something the Indian wants.”

“Look there!” said Bob, suddenly calling to the three friends. “Isn’t that a queer colored blanket that man has spread over his horse?”

The boys looked and saw a horseman riding toward the fort. A closer examination revealed the fact that he was an Indian; and a still closer inspection of the animal he rode satisfied them that what Bob had supposed to be a blanket, was not a blanket after all. It looked more like a leopard skin. Bob was the first to discover his error, or at least to speak of it.

“I declare,” said he, as the Indian drew nearer, “I believe the spots are in the horse!”

“I know they are,” whispered Eugene, excitedly. “Now if the man on his back is a one-eyed Indian, he’s the very fellow we’re looking for. Let’s go and see.”

The boys walked rapidly toward the Fort, but before they reached it the Indian had dismounted at the gate, where he was joined by Frank and Lieutenant Gaylord. The former seemed to be very much interested in the horse. He gave him a good looking over, passed his hands over his sleek skin, felt his legs, examined his mouth, and then put his hands into his pockets and stood off again and looked at him. His actions were enough to satisfy Archie and his two friends that they had not been mistaken in the horse. They slackened their pace and loitered along, to give Frank and the lieutenant time to finish their examination and get out of the way, and when they saw them go into the Fort they ran up and accosted the Indian. He had one eye and consequently, as Eugene declared, must be the man they wanted to see.

“Hallo, uncle,” said Featherweight. “That’s an odd-looking beast you’ve got there.”

“Me chief, no uncle,” said the Indian.

“Ah! all right. You Indians put one in mind of Artemas Ward’s military company, you’re all officers. I’ve never seen one of you yet who did not claim to be a chief. Where did you get him?”

“Injun raise him,” replied the owner of the horse.

“He isn’t good for much, is he? He looks as though he were made up of three or four horses of different colors.”

“He good as three, four, half dozen,” said the Indian. “Keep good.”

“You don’t care about selling him, do you?”

“Well, s’pose Injun sell, what you give?”

“O, I don’t want him,” said Fred. “I’ve got one that just suits me.”

“I have a horse I’ll trade for him,” said Archie. “How much boot will you give me? I know he is good, for I rode him all the way from Salt Lake City.”

“Where he?” asked the Indian, looking around.

“O, he’s down at the camp.”

“S’pose you let Injun see him.”

“All right, I will.”

Archie walked off, whistling as he went, and acting altogether very unconcerned; but he was in reality highly excited. The Indian talked as if he might possibly be induced to trade, and the prospect of owning a horse that could beat his cousin’s, was enough to put Archie in the best of spirits. He caught his nag, which was feeding near the camp, saddled and bridled him, and rode back to the Fort. He found his friends waiting for him on the other side of the stockade, where they had taken the Indian and his horse, so that Frank, if he should happen to come out, should not see what was going on. They intended to make the trade, if they could, and surprise him.

“There’s a horse for you, chief,” said Featherweight, as Archie rode up and dismounted. “If he isn’t a good one I never saw one.”

A grunt was the only reply the Indian made. Whether it was intended to express contempt, or something else, the boys did not know. He gave Archie’s horse a good looking over, while the owner and his companions stood near, calm and indifferent to all outward appearance, but really very anxious, and impatient to hear his decision.

“Well, speak up,” said Eugene, as the Indian, having completed his examination, stepped back to take a general survey of the horse. “Will you trade?”

“You got blanket?” asked the savage.

“O, we’re not going to give you more boot than you can carry away—you may depend on that,” said Featherweight.

“I wouldn’t mind throwing in a pair of blankets,” said Archie.

“Good?” asked the Indian.

“Yes, they’ll be good. Not a hole in them.”

“And to make you feel a little better over it, perhaps we’ll add a pipe or two and some tobacco,” said Eugene.

“Five pounds?”

“Yes; we’ll say five pounds.”

“You got six-shooter short-gun?”

No, Archie was quite sure he had no revolver that he could spare. He had but two, and he might need them before he saw home again. But Eugene suggested that he might purchase a second-hand weapon of the sutler, and after some debate the point was conceded.

The bargaining thus commenced continued for nearly half an hour, the Indian showing himself as smart as any Yankee in a trade, sticking to his points with so much pertinacity that the boys were obliged to yield to every one of them, and finally Archie left his companions in high glee and walked into the Fort. When he came out again, a few minutes afterward, he carried a pair of blankets over his arm, an army revolver in his hand, and his pockets were filled with tobacco, powder, lead, cartridges, pipes and knives. The Indian critically examined every article as it was passed over to him, and then after shifting his saddle to the back of Archie’s horse mounted and rode off, leaving Archie holding fast to his new purchase and looking first at one and then at the other of his companions, who were so highly elated that they could scarcely restrain their glee until the Indian was out of hearing.

“We did it,” said Featherweight, who was the first to speak.

“And so easily, too,” added Eugene. “You got him cheap, Eugene, if he is as good as the lieutenant says he is. Your old horse cost you seventy-five dollars in Salt Lake, and the articles you bought of the sutler, being all second-hand, could not have cost you much more than twenty dollars. Ninety-five dollars is little money for a good horse.”

Archie drew a long breath and looked at his nag with an expression of great satisfaction on his face, which, however, quickly changed to a look of anxiety as a disagreeable thought intruded itself upon him.

“Fellows,” said he, “perhaps this isn’t the horse we want at all. I have my suspicions. That Indian parted with him almost too willingly.”

“Eh?” exclaimed Eugene. “O no, that can’t be. The lieutenant said the horse was mouse-colored and covered all over with white spots, and that his owner was a one-eyed Indian.”

“But if there should happen to be two mouse-colored horses about the Fort and two one-eyed Indians,” said Fred, dolefully, “why then——”

“And another thing,” continued Eugene, when Featherweight paused, “didn’t we see Frank and the lieutenant looking at this very horse while we were on our way from the camp? That meant something, according to my way of thinking.”

“If I have been cheated,” said Archie, “I shall never hear the last of it.”

“But you haven’t been cheated,” said Eugene. “Lend me the horse for about five minutes, and you and Fred stay here till I come back. I’ll soon settle the matter.”

Archie’s saddle and bridle were quickly put upon the mustang, and then Eugene mounted him and rode around an angle of the stockade into the gate.

CHAPTER IV.
THE NEW HORSE.

As Eugene rode through the gate the sound of laughter, which he knew came from the lieutenant’s quarters fell upon his ear. Inside the apartment was gathered a gay party, consisting of the lieutenant, Frank Nelson and some of the younger officers of the Fort. The doors and windows were open, and they could see every thing that went on outside. The lieutenant was telling some amusing story, in the midst of which he suddenly paused, and jumping to his feet hurried to the door. Eugene saw him, but pretended he did not, and reining in his horse, began looking all about the Fort as if he were in search of somebody. The lieutenant said something in a low tone to those in the room, and in a second the doors and windows were filled with heads. That was quite enough to satisfy Eugene, who turned about and would have gone out again had not the lieutenant called to him.

“Hallo, there!” he exclaimed.

“Ah! glad to see you,” said Eugene, riding up in front of the young officer’s quarters. “Hope you are enjoying your usual good health. You haven’t seen anything of Uncle Dick about here during the last hour or two, have you?”

“Whose horse is that?” demanded the lieutenant, without replying to the question.

“This?” said Eugene, innocently. “O, he’s one Archie Winters picked up a short time ago. Do you know anything about him?”

“Archie hasn’t bought him?” exclaimed the lieutenant.

“Well—yes; I believe so.”

“Why, it can’t be possible! What sort of a looking man was it he bought him of, do you know?”

“A one-eyed Indian,” exclaimed Eugene, glancing through the door at Frank, whose face wore so comical a look of blank amazement that Eugene wanted to laugh outright. “Got him cheap, too—about ninety-five dollars.”

“It is very strange, and I can’t understand it,” said the young officer, whose surprise seemed to increase every moment. “To my certain knowledge, that Indian has been offered three hundred dollars for this horse, time and again.”

He came out to examine the animal, in order to make sure that he was not mistaken in him, and then went in again and held a whispered consultation with Frank; while Eugene once more made inquiries concerning his Uncle Dick, who, he knew perfectly well, was in camp enjoying his after-dinner smoke and nap. As he was about to ride away the lieutenant called to him again.

“I wish you would tell Archie that if he would like to dispose of that horse I’ll give him a good trade,” said he.

“I’ll tell him, but I don’t think he wants to sell. He needs a horse, and this one will perhaps suit him as well as any other.”

“I should like to have him for a curiosity,” added the lieutenant.

“That’s what Archie wants him for, I believe—or something else. If you can’t tell me where to find Uncle Dick, I guess I’ll go. Good-by.”

Eugene rode away from the lieutenant’s quarters demurely enough, but as soon as he was safe through the gate and out of hearing of Frank and the rest, he threw himself forward on the horn of his saddle and laughed so heartily that Fred and Archie, who were waiting for him behind an angle of the stockade, looked at him in amazement as he came up. Their faces brightened at once, for they knew he had good news to communicate.

“It is all right,” said Eugene, as soon as he could speak. “If you want to see a crest-fallen set of fellows, just go and call on the lieutenant. He says he’ll buy this horse if you want to sell him. He’d like to keep him for a curiosity.”

“O, he would, would he?” said Archie. “I know a story worth two of that. I don’t want to sell.”

“Of course you don’t. Now let’s go down to camp, and after Fred and I have saddled our horses, we’ll go out and have a gallop. I want to see this fellow move.”

The others readily agreed to this proposition. The numerous defeats they had sustained in their efforts to make Frank “take a back seat,” as they expressed it, had made them timid, and they wanted to know just what their new horse could do before they began boasting of his speed. The camp reached and the horses saddled, the three boys rode off and finally disappeared behind the swells.

The races that began as soon as they were out of sight of the camp and Fort continued for half an hour or more, each boy in turn riding the new horse; and the rapidity with which he moved over the ground when put to the top of his speed, and the ease with which he left the others behind, were enough to make the three friends dance with delight. They did not know that there were three persons who were watching their movements with a great deal of interest, but such was the fact. One of them was an Indian, who had thrown himself flat upon the summit of a neighboring swell, so that nothing but the top of his head could be seen above the grass, and the others were two horsemen who sat in their saddles in plain view of the racers. They were Frank and the lieutenant.

It was a great mystery to these two friends, not only how Archie had managed to possess himself of a horse which nearly every officer stationed at the Fort had tried in vain to purchase, but also how he had happened to hear of him. It was their intention to keep his existence a profound secret. It was a question in their minds, too, whether or not Archie knew what a prize he had secured; and in order to settle their doubts on this point, they mounted their horses and rode out to watch his movements.

“I am satisfied now,” said the lieutenant, when he and Frank had witnessed two of the three races that came off. “If Archie didn’t know that the horse was fast when he bought him, he certainly knows it by this time. It is all up with you, my boy.”

“I shouldn’t mind being beaten,” said Frank, “only I have crowed over Archie a good deal, and he will pay me back a thousand fold. No one can beat him at that.”

“There’s no way to avoid it, that I can see, unless you catch that wild horse of father’s. That would be a feather in your cap and money in your pocket. The race will take place to-morrow, I suppose.”

“I suppose so,” replied Frank.

But, as it happened, the race did not come off the next day, nor in fact on any day. An unlooked-for incident which happened that night saved Frank from defeat.

“Well, Archie,” said Eugene, at the conclusion of the third race, during which the new steed, which was plainly growing tired of the sport, took the bits in his teeth and made a persevering attempt to run away with Featherweight, who was riding him, “if you never had a good horse before you’ve got one now, and Mr. Nelson will have to take a back seat, sure.”

“But we don’t want to run him against the black to-day,” said Fred. “He’s getting tired. We don’t want to go back to camp either, for there’s nothing interesting going on there; so how shall we pass the afternoon?”

“I don’t know any better way than to follow up those antelopes again, if we can find them,” said Eugene. “Perhaps we may succeed in bagging one of them.”

This was the way the boys had passed a good portion of the week that had elapsed since the occurrence of the events at Potter’s rancho. Archie knew something about antelope, and the manner of hunting them practised by the hunters of the prairies, and he had been initiating his friends into the mysteries of the sport. We mean by this that he had showed them how to attract the attention and excite the curiosity of the timid animals, by moving above the grass a red handkerchief attached to the muzzle of a rifle; but he had not yet shown them how to shoot one, for the simple reason that the antelope, having been hunted and shot at by the officers and soldiers of the fort until their numbers had been pretty well thinned out, had become so wild and wary that Archie could never induce them to come within reach of his Maynard, which would have been sure death to one of them at six hundred yards. So in pursuit of the antelope the boys went; and the fact that during the whole of the afternoon they saw not the first sign of the game, did not dampen their ardor or detract from the pleasure of the brisk gallop they enjoyed. Neither would it in any way have marred their sport had they known that there was an eye watching all their movements; that it followed them in all their windings and turnings, and that when they rode into camp at dark, the owner of it was not more than two hundred yards behind them.

The Club’s camp was permanently located upon the banks of a small stream which ran through a thickly-wooded dell about a quarter of a mile from the Fort. When they first pitched upon that spot as a suitable camping-ground, they little thought that that stream was one of the famous trout brooks of which they had heard so much. It had more the appearance of the sluggish bayous so common in Louisiana. Its banks were low and marshy, the water was muddy and almost too warm to drink, the bed of the stream was filled with quicksands, in which a horse and his rider would sink out of sight, and taken altogether, one would as soon expect to find alligators and water-moccasins there as the speckled beauties in which anglers take so much delight. But the Club having explored the stream almost to its source, knew that its fountainhead was located among the hills about two days’ journey from the Fort; that for twenty miles the brook was one succession of foaming cascades; and that under every shelving rock along the banks was a deep and silent pool in which the trout fairly swarmed. The strings of fish they caught there were far ahead of anything Frank and Archie had ever drawn from the brooks about Lawrence, and two days’ splendid sport made no apparent diminution in their numbers. There seemed to be just as many left, and they were so eager to be taken that they would snap at a naked hook.

But the Club could not spend all their time in fishing, however much they enjoyed the sport. They expected to remain at the Fort not more than two weeks longer (Dick had warned them that the mountain passes would soon be blocked with snow, and that if they intended to return to California before the winter set in, they had but little time to spare), and there was still much to be seen. They scoured the prairie and foot-hills for miles on each side of the Fort; knocked over sage hens and jack rabbits by the dozen; chased a young grizzly bear that had strayed down from the mountains, and obtained one or two shots at elk and black-tails; but there were two species of animals that were occasionally seen about the Fort which they had not yet been able to find—buffalo and wild horses. The buffalo had been driven off the range by the hunters, who, in order to procure their hides, slaughtered them at all seasons of the year, and wild mustangs, Dick said, were not as often met with as in the years gone by. He had not seen any for a long time. True there was a small drove of horses which was now and then seen in the neighborhood of the Fort, but the animals comprising it were not mustangs. They were from the States, and it was supposed that they had either strayed away from some emigrant train, or been stampeded by the Indians. Among them was a small bay horse, with black points and a white star in his forehead, which had once belonged to Colonel Gaylord. He had escaped from the herders, joined this half-wild drove, and having gained his liberty seemed determined to keep it. He was a valuable animal, and it was understood that his owner was ready to pay a handsome reward to any one who would capture and return him.

It had by this time become pretty well known that Archie had traded for a new horse during the day, and the Club were talking about it when he rode into the camp. As he dismounted in front of the fire there was a general setting down of plates, and a simultaneous rush made by all the boys, who were as eager to examine the new horse as his owner was to exhibit him. They knew that the animal had been purchased on purpose to beat Frank’s horse, and they had a multitude of questions to ask about him.

“I suppose you two don’t care to see him, do you?”

This question was addressed by Eugene to Frank and Dick, who kept their seats by the fire, and devoted their whole attention to their suppers.

“I have seen him once before to-day,” said Frank.

“And what opinion have you formed regarding him?”

“I think he’s a very good-looking old hack.”

“O, do you?” exclaimed Archie. “It is very kind of you to say so much. But if you will take a ride with me to-morrow morning after breakfast, I’ll warrant you’ll think he is something besides an old hack before you see the last of him.”

Every one present understood that this was equivalent to a challenge, and Frank promptly accepted it as such, being resolved to “die game.”

“Now, Dick, let’s hear what you’ve got to say,” continued Eugene.

“I hope you didn’t give much for him,” was the trapper’s answer.

“Not much—a horse and about twenty dollars worth of blankets and things.”

“I’m sorry you gin that much.”

“Why? Isn’t he worth it?”

“I reckon he is.”

“Then why are you sorry?”

“O ’cause.”

“That’s no reason at all,” said Fred. “You’re sorry the black is going to get beaten, but we can’t help it. We don’t want to take dust all the time, and what’s more, we don’t intend to do it.”

Dick made no reply. He only smiled and glanced at old Bob, who gave him a significant look in return. Archie saw it, and knew that Dick had some other reason for wishing the trade had not been made. What it was he could not imagine. He thought of a score of things while he was unsaddling his horse and staking him out with the rest, but could decide upon nothing. When he returned to the fire a well-filled plate was placed before him, and in taking part in the conversation and listening to the trappers’ anecdotes, he soon forgot all about his new horse and the race that was to come off on the morrow.

CHAPTER V.
THE INDIAN TRADES BACK.

The Club were tired that night, as indeed they were every night, and sought their blankets at an early hour. Uncle Dick had undisputed possession of the little Sibley tent that was pitched on one side of the fire; Frank, Perk, Walter, George and Bab bunked in the wagon; Archie and his two friends slept under a brush “lean-to” which they had erected for their own especial benefit; and the trappers passed the night wherever they happened to be sitting or lying when sleep overpowered them. On this particular night Dick and old Bob sat up and smoked after all the rest of the party had retired—indeed until they had all fallen asleep except Archie.

The latter thought as much of his new horse as he had thought of his first pair of skates, which he found in his stocking on a certain Christmas morning when he was about eight years old. For a week or two after those skates appeared he never went to bed without placing them on a chair close by, so that they would be the first things his eyes rested on when he awoke in the morning. He would have been glad to do the same by the horse, but as he could not, he contented himself with lying awake and thinking about him; and thus it happened that he overheard some conversation that was not intended for his ears, and which was the means of bringing him a hard fall and a jumping headache, which he had for an inseparable companion all the next day. The conversation referred to took place between the trappers. The camp had been quiet for an hour, and old Bob, supposing that everybody was asleep, removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to say:

“I’m sorry the leetle ’un gin them blankets and things fur that speckled hoss, ’cause he’s sartin to be jest that much out of pocket!”

“I know it,” replied Dick.

“I was kinder in hopes you’d tell him,” continued Bob.

“I thought of it, but what good would it a done? The Injun in course sold him the hoss intendin’ to steal it agin, an’ we’d best let him take it now, an’ without makin’ no fuss about it, an’ without his hurtin’ the boy.”

“Wal, mebbe so,” said Bob.

“You see,” added Dick, “if he can’t steal him one time he will another. If he can’t take him to-night, mebbe he’ll ketch the youngster alone on the prairy to-morrer or next day, an’ knock him down an’ make off with the hoss; an’ that would be sartin to raise a rumpus; ’cause if that Injun’s head an’ the sights of my rifle should ever come in line arterwards, the we’pon would go off whether I said so or not, an’ then thar’d be one Injun less.”

“I know;” said Bob, “an’ mebbe its best as it is. Let the Injun have his ole hoss, if he wants him.”

Archie listened in amazement to this conversation and caught every word of it. He knew now why Dick was sorry that he had purchased the horse. He remembered that the trappers had told him a dozen stories illustrative of the propensity on the part of the noble red man to drive a hard bargain in a horse trade, and after disposing of a valuable animal for all he would bring, to steal him at the first opportunity. He knew too why the Indian could not be prevailed upon to sell the horse to any of the officers of the Fort. They were familiar with all the tricks to which he and his kind were addicted, and the horse, once in their possession, would be so closely guarded that he could never get a chance to steal him again. But Archie was a stranger to the prairie and its customs, and a boy besides, and the savage did not think he would run any risk in trading with him.

“And he didn’t run any risk in dealing with me, either,” said Archie, after he had spent a few minutes in thinking the matter over. “But he will run some risk if he tries to steal that horse from me, as sure as he is an Indian. I gave him all the boot he asked—it was a fair, square and honest trade, and he must stand to it.”

Archie threw aside his blankets, drew one of his revolvers from its holster and made his way quickly and cautiously toward the place where his horse was picketed. He held his weapon in readiness to defend his property, should occasion demand it, but there was no one there to dispute possession of it with him—that is, there was no one in sight. There was some one, however, crouching close by in the grass—some one who saw all he did, and who followed behind him at a safe distance as he led the horse away and made him fast to a sapling, which stood in the outskirts of the camp and close beside the wagon. Having done this, Archie removed his blankets, saddle and weapons from the cabin, rearranged his bed under the wagon, and laid down almost within reach of his horse, and in such a position that he could see the smallest object that might attempt to approach him.

“Now, then,” said he, “if that Indian thinks he is smart enough to steal this horse, I am ready to undeceive him. He would stand a much better chance of getting him if he would return those articles I gave him and tell me he wants to trade back. I’d rather give up the horse than be obliged to stand guard over him night and day. But I’ll keep him long enough to have at least one race with Frank, no matter what happens.”

So saying, Archie settled himself into a comfortable position and prepared to go to sleep, intending to wake in time to defeat the Indian’s nefarious designs, if he had any. He knew that when savages intend to make a descent upon a wagon-train, they come just before daylight, for it is generally darkest then, the fires have burned low and the emigrants sleep the soundest. It was about this time that Archie wanted to wake up; and if he succeeded in doing so, he would stand guard over his property until the whole camp was astir.

The excitement occasioned by the conversation he had overheard between the trappers kept him awake for a long time, but sleep overpowered him at last, and then Archie knew nothing for many an hour. The camp fire, which Dick had mended once or twice during the night, had almost died away, the moon was out of sight behind the hills, and the thick darkness which the savage likes best was fast settling down over the woods and surrounding prairie, when Archie suddenly became conscious that there was something going on near him. A faint, rustling sound, as if some one was trying to pass carefully through the bushes, aroused him. Just then a burning ember from the log back of the fire fell off, blazed up as brightly as a candle for a moment, and then went out, making the camp and all surrounding objects look darker by contrast. But Archie, whose eyes were wide open, had seen something in that instant of time. He had seen an Indian crouching in a thicket close to the root of the sapling to which his horse was tied.

Giving a loud yell to arouse the camp, Archie jumped to his feet, and making a blind dive in the direction of his horse succeeded in fastening upon the lasso with which he was tied to the tree. But it happened that the lasso was no longer fast to the tree; it was in the hands of the Indian, who, as active as a cat, sprang upon the horse before the boy could come within reach of him. Archie quickly bracing his feet gave the lasso a tremendous jerk, believing that if the savage held fast to it, he could pull him to the ground again. No doubt he would have accomplished his object had he had any one but an Indian to contend with. The latter, much too cunning to be caught in any such trap, allowed the lasso to run freely through his hands, and Archie went staggering back against the wagon wheel. Before he could recover himself the Indian dashed his heels into the sides of the horse, which sprang away at the top of his speed, and Archie was thrown with great violence to the ground; while the rawhide rope, which was still fast to the horse’s neck, was drawn so rapidly through his hands that they were burned almost to a blister. It was all over in much less time than we have taken to tell it. Before any of the others, who had been awakened by Archie’s loud yell, could come to his assistance, the Indian had obtained possession of the horse and was out of sight in the darkness. Then the members of the Club began to bestir themselves. Uncle Dick pulled aside the door of the tent and looked out; Eugene and Fred, who missed Archie as soon as their eyes were open, began groping blindly for their rifles, under the impression that the camp had been attacked by the Indians and their friend carried off by them; the boys in the wagon quickly made their appearance; while Dick and Bob sat up and stared at one another with an expression on their faces which said very plainly that they had been expecting something of the kind.

“‘Like a snow-flake on the river, one moment seen, then lost forever,’” murmured Archie, gazing in the direction his horse had last been seen.

“What’s the matter?” asked all the boys, in a breath.

“His speckled hoss is gone,” said Dick.

“Yes, he’s gone,” repeated Archie, holding his hands under his arms, as if they were very cold instead of very warm, “and I am a few dollars out of pocket.”

“Stolen!” cried the Club, beginning to comprehend the state of affairs.

They stood motionless and speechless for a few seconds, as people almost always do when they hear any astounding piece of intelligence, and then each boy looked at his neighbor to see what he thought about it. Eugene, who had been bustling about the camp, in search of a certain piece of his property which he could not find, was the first to speak.

“Well, that is not so bad as it might be,” said he. “Can anybody tell me where to look for my bridle? We expected to have a race any how, you know, and it might as well come off now as a few hours later. Let’s follow him and make him give up the horse.”

“How are we going to do it?” asked Archie, dolefully.

“Why, are there not enough of us to take it away from him if he shows fight?”

“Perhaps so,” said Frank, “but there are not enough of us to catch him. He is safe by this time, and we’ll never put eyes on that horse again.”

The trappers said Frank was right; that an attempt to recover the lost steed would only be time and energy wasted; and this put a stop to the frantic search for saddles, bridles and weapons, in which some of the Club were engaged. The pursuit and capture of a cunning Indian thief would, the boys thought, be something to talk about in after days, and they were loth to allow so fine an opportunity for distinguishing themselves to pass unimproved. It was hard, too, to give up that fine horse, of which they had expected such great things; but the trappers’ word was law, and the Club, with much grumbling, and many hearty wishes that they might have the pleasure of meeting that Indian at some future time, threw down their bridles and gathered about Archie to hear the story of his encounter with the thief. When they had questioned him to their satisfaction, and the palms of his hands had, at Uncle Dick’s suggestion, been thickly coated with soap, they went back to their blankets and finally fell asleep again.

Archie’s slumber was not very refreshing. He could not banish thoughts of his lost horse, his head and hands throbbed, and when he managed to catch a few winks of sleep, he dreamed of wild mustangs and fights with Indians without number. By daylight his hands ceased to trouble him; but his head reminded him of the hard fall he had received, and he did not feel much like leaving his blanket. It required something, however, much out of the ordinary run of events to wholly depress Archie’s buoyant spirits; and when Dick reported to him that his old horse had been found grazing with the others, he told himself that he was in some slight degree recompensed for the loss he had sustained. While he was washing his hands and face at the brook he was joined by Fred and Eugene.

“Say, Archie,” whispered the former, looking all around to make sure that none of the rest of the Club were within hearing, “Dick says he saw those wild horses this morning.”

“Did he?” said Archie, not in the least interested in the matter, although under almost any other circumstances Fred’s enthusiasm would have affected him at once.

“Yes. Can’t you go out and catch one? We should like to see the operation, and Dick says you are first rate with the lasso.”

“The colonel’s horse is among them, you know,” said Eugene. “If you should happen to catch him you would make something by it.”

“But I couldn’t do it,” replied Archie. “If it were possible for anybody to catch him he would have been returned to his owner long before this time.”

“Well, we can go out and look at them, can’t we? We have never seen any wild horses, you know.”

Yes, Archie thought they might take a look at them if they could find them; so a very light breakfast was hastily dispatched, and the three boys mounted their horses and rode off, telling their friends who remained in the camp that they were going out to catch the colonel’s horse, and that they were not coming back without him.

Before they had gone a hundred yards from the camp, Archie began to wish he had not started at all. He could not help thinking of the fleet, handsome animal that had carried him the last time he was in saddle. His old horse—the one the Indian left when he stole the other—was a shaggy, rough-looking fellow, but he was one of the best the Club owned. He had been Archie’s almost constant companion ever since he left Salt Lake City; had carried him safely during that long, rapid gallop from the foot of the mountains to Fort Bolton, which had been undertaken by the Club as soon as it was found that Walter was missing, and the fact that he had borne the fatigue of the journey better than any of the other horses, Frank’s alone excepted, had raised him considerably in the estimation of his owner. But with all his good qualities he had some bad ones, and the most noticeable one, just now, was his rough, clumsy way of getting over the ground. Archie had scarcely thought of it before, but having backed the Indian’s mustang, which was a remarkably easy riding horse, he thought of it now, and told himself that it was very disagreeable.

But one could not long remain in a gloomy frame of mind while he had the fresh, invigorating air of the prairie to breathe, and two such jolly fellows as Fred and Eugene for companions, and after he had been half an hour in the saddle Archie began to feel more like himself. Having as yet discovered no traces of the wild horses the boys began to give up all hopes of finding them, and allowing their animals to settle into a slow walk they rode side-ways, “woman fashion,” to relieve their cramped limbs, and talked of the sports and adventures they had thus far seen since leaving Bellville, and speculated upon those yet to come. Finally, when the sun began to show himself above the hills, Fred broke out into a song, in which the others joined, and the result of which was rather surprising.

“‘The bright, rosy morning peeps over the hills,

With blushes adorning the meadows and rills;

While the merry horn calls come, come away,

O, wake from your slumbers and hail the new day.

“‘The stag roused before us away seems to fly,

And pants to the chorus of hounds in full cry.

Then follow the musical chase,

Where pleasure and vigor and health all embrace.

“‘The day’s sport, when over, makes blood circle right,

And gives the brisk——’”

“Listen! listen!” cried Archie, suddenly.

The boys brought their song to an abrupt ending, and drawing up their horses gazed at one another with faces full of wonder.

CHAPTER VI.
EUGENE’S PLAN.