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"
Damned
if
I
do
n't
believe
I
have
,
uncle
!
"
responded
the
nephew
,
in
a
tone
of
not
very
respectful
mistrust
.
"
Anyhow
;
who
the
devil
could
find
his
way
out
of
an
ashpit
like
this
?
No
,
no
!
"
he
continued
,
reluctant
to
betray
his
embarrassment
as
the
carriole
came
up
.
"
I
see
now
.
We
're
all
right
yet
.
The
river
must
be
in
this
direction
.
Come
on
!
"
On
goes
the
guide
,
evidently
irresolute
.
On
follow
the
sable
teamsters
,
who
,
despite
their
stolidity
,
do
not
fail
to
note
some
signs
of
vacillation
.
They
can
tell
that
they
are
no
longer
advancing
in
a
direct
line
;
but
circuitously
among
the
copses
,
and
across
the
glades
that
stretch
between
.
All
are
gratified
by
a
shout
from
the
conductor
,
announcing
recovered
confidence
.
In
response
there
is
a
universal
explosion
of
whipcord
,
with
joyous
exclamations
.
Once
more
they
are
stretching
their
teams
along
a
travelled
road
--
where
a
half-score
of
wheeled
vehicles
must
have
passed
before
them
.
And
not
long
before
:
the
wheel-tracks
are
of
recent
impress
--
the
hoof-prints
of
the
animals
fresh
as
if
made
within
the
hour
.
A
train
of
waggons
,
not
unlike
their
own
,
must
have
passed
over
the
burnt
prairie
!
Like
themselves
,
it
could
only
be
going
towards
the
Leona
:
perhaps
some
government
convoy
on
its
way
to
Fort
Inge
?
In
that
case
they
have
only
to
keep
in
the
same
track
.
The
Fort
is
on
the
line
of
their
march
--
but
a
short
distance
beyond
the
point
where
their
journey
is
to
terminate
.
Nothing
could
be
more
opportune
.
The
guide
,
hitherto
perplexed
--
though
without
acknowledging
it
--
is
at
once
relieved
of
all
anxiety
;
and
with
a
fresh
exhibition
of
conceit
,
orders
the
route
to
be
resumed
.
For
a
mile
or
more
the
waggon-tracks
are
followed
--
not
in
a
direct
line
,
but
bending
about
among
the
skeleton
copses
.
The
countenance
of
Cassius
Calhoun
,
for
a
while
wearing
a
confident
look
,
gradually
becomes
clouded
It
assumes
the
profoundest
expression
of
despondency
,
on
discovering
that
the
four-and-forty
wheel-tracks
he
is
following
,
have
been
made
by
ten
Pittsburgh
waggons
,
and
a
carriole
--
the
same
that
are
now
following
him
,
and
in
whose
company
he
has
been
travelling
all
the
way
from
the
Gulf
of
Matagorda
!
Beyond
doubt
,
the
waggons
of
Woodley
Poindexter
were
going
over
ground
already
traced
by
the
tiring
of
their
wheels
.
