University of Virginia Library

22. CHAPTER X.

Mrs. Rivers and I had long been planning a ride
on horse-back; and when the good stars were in conjunction,
so that two horses and two saddles were to be
had at one time, we determined to wend our resolute
way as far as Tinkerville, to judge for ourselves of the
state of the enemy's preparations. We set out soon
after breakfast in high style; my Eclipse being Mr.
Jenkins's Governor, seventeen last grass; and my
fair companion's a twenty-dollar Indian pony, age undecided—men's
saddles of course, for the settlement
boasts no other as yet; and, by way of luxury, a large
long-woolled sheep-skin strapped over each.

We jogged on charmingly, now through woods cool
and moist as the grotto of Undine, and carpeted every
where with strawberry vines and thousands of flowers;
now across strips of open land where you could look
through the straight-stemmed and scattered groves for
miles on each side. A marsh or two were to be passed,
so said our most minute directions, and then we should
come to the trail through deep woods, which would
lead us in a short time to the emerging glories of our
boastful neighbour.

We found the marshes, without difficulty, and soon
afterwards the trail, and D'Orsay's joyous bark, as he

ran far before us, told that he had made some discovery.
“Deer, perhaps,” said I. It was only an Indian, and
when I stopped and tried to inquire whether we were
in the right track, he could not be made to understand
but gave the usual assenting grunt and passed on.

When I turned to speak to my companion she was
so ashy pale that I feared she must fall from her horse.

“What is the matter, my dearest madam!” said I,
going as near her as I could coax old Governor.

“The Indian! the Indian!” was all she could utter.
I was terribly puzzled. It had never occurred to me
that the Indians would naturally be objects of terror to
a young lady who had scarcely ever seen one; and I
knew we should probably meet dozens of them in the
course of our short ride.

I said all I could, and she tried her best to seem
courageous, and, after she had rallied her spirits a little,
we proceeded, thinking the end of our journey could
not be distant, especially as we saw several log-houses
at intervals which we supposed were the outskirts of
Tinkerville.

But we were disappointed in this; for the road led
through a marsh, and then through woods again, and
such tangled woods, that I began to fear, in my secret
soul, that we had wandered far from our track, betrayed
by D'Orsay's frolics.

I was at length constrained to hint to my pale companion
my misgivings, and to propose a return to the
nearest log hut for information. Without a word she
wheeled her shaggy pony, and, in a few minutes, we
found ourselves at the bars belonging to the last log
house we had passed.

A wretched looking woman was washing at the
door.

“Can you tell us which is the road to Tinkerville?”

“Well, I guess you can't miss it if you follow your
own tracks. It a'n't long since you came through it.
That big stump is the middle of the public square.”