Five minutes later they were galloping through the forest.
[CHAPTER IX.]
THEY MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE.
That part of the valley towards which they were going had undergone no change. The squatters had had no time to visit it, and it retained all its original beauty and primitive majesty. George Clinton appeared fully to know his way, entering at full gallop on the most out-of-the-way and rugged paths, followed by Samuel Dickson, who was in a charming humour, and appeared delighted to explore this part of his domains, for all on that side of the valley was his present from his brother.
"You ride as if you had known the country ten years at least," he said.
"I came here about a month before you, but I have been everywhere with Charbonneau."
"Who may Charbonneau be?"
"My hunter, a great big Canadian, as long as a fishing rod, as thin as a nail, and as honest as a Newfoundland dog. I got him out of a very great scrape, and he has been devoted to me ever since."
"Lucky for you."