University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

A few days after this incident, Mike was indulging
himself in this day-dream of ambition, as he lay,
stretched at full length on the bank of the river, in
the shade of the noble elm. His thoughts could
hardly be said to have any definite shape or end, but
straggled on in a kind of disjointed reverie, occasionally
interrupted by a low whistling soliloquy, to which
he was much addicted. Suddenly, his quick ear was
arrested by the distant tramping of a horse. Starting
quickly up, he was surprised to see a noble animal,
which he recognized at once as the same which now
occupied most of his thoughts, in the act of leaping a
broad ditch that intersected the field some sixty or
eighty rods from the place where he was. He was
fully caparisoned, but without a rider. The leap was
one that by common consent would have been called
impossible; but it was accomplished with apparent
ease. Tossing his head wildly, the beautiful creature,
the very embodiment of untameable beauty and
power, flew with the speed of the wind towards a
deep and broken ravine that separated the open field
from a thick and tangled wood beyond.

To follow at the top of his speed was only a natural
impulse with Mike. He did not ask himself what
was to be gained by it. The object of his pursuit was
soon out of sight, but not out of hearing. Guided by

his ear, Mike kept on the chase till he caught another
glimpse of the flying animal just dashing over the
brow of a precipice some twenty feet high, from which
he conceived it impossible that he could ever be
brought back alive. In an instant more, however, he
was seen darting across the interval below towards
the river, into which he flung himself with a plunge,
that seemed as if he had intended to span its entire
breadth at a leap.

Powerfully and beautifully he dashed aside the
waters, and was soon on the opposite shore. The
bank was high, steep, and sandy. The spot where
he landed was only a little narrow shelf of rock, two
or three rods in length, the bank at either end being
as precipitous as that on the side. There was therefore
no escape except through the water. Thus suddenly
cut off in his flight, he paused a moment unresolved,
and then plunged in again, and made his
way rapidly towards the other shore.

Mike had watched all his motions with intense interest,
and well knowing that his blood would be
cooled and his mettle reduced, as well as his strength
much exhausted by this effort, prepared to receive
him in the best way he could. Concealing himself
in the thick bushes that overhung the bank, at the
point where, from the direction taken, he supposed
the horse would come out, he waited for that moment
of suspended power, when the effort to swim gives
way to the struggle for a footing on the shore; and
then suddenly and boldly seizing the rein, made an
easy prisoner of the nearly exhausted fugitive.

Securing his charge to a tree, he began to think
that it was time to look for his master. He accordingly
hastened towards the place where the horse had
been first seen. Reaching the other side of the gully,
he gave a loud “halloo!” Hearing no response, he
followed the track a few rods, till it was lost in a
small thicket. Repeating his cry at the entrance of
the wood, with a clear, long, earnest breath, he thought
he heard a very indistinct reply, as of some one at a
great distance. Raising his voice to its highest pitch,
he reiterated the call. A low, faint moan, as of one
in extreme pain and weakness, now fell on his ear.
Making his way quickly in the direction from which
it came, he soon found the body of his late friend, the
young traveller, lying in a most painful position,
across the trunk of a fallen tree, and covered with
blood, from a wound in the head.

Exerting all the strength he could command, which
was very great for one of his years, Mike raised the
body from the tree, and laid it gently on the ground,
placing a large tuft of moss for a pillow. He then
ran to a little brook, which discharged itself into the
river, a few yards below, and rolling up two of the
broadest leaves he could find into a conical form, for
a cup, filled them both with water, which he dashed
into the face of the wounded man. This he repeated
two or three times, and then, with a sponge of moss,
wiped away the blood from the temples and hair.
The sufferer was so far revived by these attentions,
as to open his eyes, though still unconscious. Encouraged
by this sign of returning life, Mike renewed

his efforts. At length the lips parted, as it were, by
instinct, and the cooling draught found its way to
the parched tongue and throat. This was repeated
several times, with the happiest effect. The poor
man opened his eyes again, and looked about him.
For some time he was bewildered and it was many
minutes before he could recall to his memory the
countenance of his kind attendant, or account to himself
for his own singular situation. At length, after
another full draught from the cooling brook, he was
so far recovered as to be able to speak. With the
warmest thanks, and assurances of a more substantial
remembrance to his deliverer, from whom he had
learned the story of the flight, and re-capture of his
horse, he recounted the circumstances which brought
him into his present sad condition.

He had set out in the morning, on a fox-hunt in
company with his friend, Charles Wilkins, and some
of his neighbours. The party had separated at a considerable
distance from each other, when suddenly
the signal was given on the opposite side of the
valley, and all set off at full speed in that direction.
He was following rapidly, when another fox started
from a little thicket, and flew across his track. Instantly
changing his course, he gave chase, determined
to have the sport all to himself. He was gaining
fast upon his game, when, in leaping over the
fallen tree, where Mike had found him, his head must
have come in violent contact with the projecting
point of a broken limb, which he did not see in season
to avoid it. Stunned by the blow, and thrown

backward, he fell athwart the trunk, with no power
to move; and in that position he must have lain a full
half hour or more, when Mike discovered him. A
half hour longer, and probably life would have been
extinct.

As soon as he felt able to be left alone for a few
minutes, Mike was despatched for assistance. A litter
was brought, the sufferer was carefully placed
upon it, and, followed, by his horse, which Mike had
the proud satisfaction of being permitted to lead, conveyed

back to the house of his friend, Charles Wilkins.

From that day a new era dawned upon the hopes
of Hopeful Mike. Eugene Ralston—for that was
the name of his patron, whose life he had so singularly
been instrumental in saving—immediately
claimed him as his own, and, with the ready consent
of his parents, installed him as groom to his favourite
charger. His rags were exchanged for a neat suit of
iron-gray cassimere, a glazed cap with a broad gilt
band, and other equipments to correspond. The story
of his kind attentions, and ready ingenuity in relieving
the distressed sportsman, as well as his success
in waylaying and capturing his horse, was in every
body's mouth. His name was honourably mentioned
in the newspapers, in connexion with the accident
that had befallen Mr. Ralston. And it was now manifest
to all, that, if there was any thing in Mike to
build upon, his fortune was made.