CHAPTER XI.
THE BRIGADE AND AN OLD FRIEND.
After bidding Imogene good-by, I started on a rapid pace to the northward. At night I kindled a fire by which I slept in safety, and at an early hour resumed my journey. The character of the country continued much the same—broad belts of prairie relieved by groves of trees and streams of considerable magnitude. Birds of all kinds whirred through the air and sang within the wood, and the dark forms of wild animals were more than once seen gamboling in the distance.
At noon I reached the banks of a river, so large that I was pretty certain it was the Yellowstone, and hence was able to judge pretty correctly of my locality. The river was very broad, and it was quite a serious undertaking to cross it; but, nevertheless, it had to be done, and I commenced making my preparations.
As I was stepping in, a sound of voices struck me. I paused and listened, and soon could hear the loud, regular swelling song gradually approaching nearer and nearer, and at stated intervals the powerful chorus. There was something in the sound of this song, at such a time, that was indescribably stirring and inspiriting; and, as it came nigher and nigher, and grew louder, its power increased. Hardly satisfied of the nature of the approaching body, I withdrew a short distance, and waited its appearance. Soon a large canoe, nearly full of men, came to view around a bend some hundred yards distant, and it was instantly followed by another and another, all keeping time to the words of the song:
We are going with the tide,
Yoho! yoho!
Free as the mountain-winds we glide,
Yoho! yoho!