[CHAPTER VII.]
The Trapper’s Reminiscence.
THE horses did not stop on the bank, but, in spite of the desperate efforts of the boys, kept on, until the water reached half way to their backs. The old buffalo hunter, not satisfied with this, persisted in lying down; and Archie and the antelope were deposited in the middle of the stream. Under any other circumstances, the young hunter would have been angry; but, as it was, the cool bath was most refreshing after his long ride over the dry prairie, under the hot, scorching sun; so seizing the antelope, he dragged him to the shore, leaving his horse to take care of himself.
Thirsty as the boys were, they still retained their presence of mind; instead of endangering his life by drinking freely of the water, Archie contented himself with repeatedly bathing his head, while Frank, who was still in his saddle, reached down and scooped up a few drops in his hand.
“I say, Frank, isn’t this glorious?” said Archie at length, as he divested himself of his coat, which he hung upon a limb to dry. “But it’s lucky that my ammunition is water-proof. If you had been in my fix, you wouldn’t be able to do much more shooting until we got back to our wagon. I declare, it’s getting dark. Where do you suppose that wagon is? If we don’t find it inside of fifteen minutes, we shall have to camp.”
“Let’s stay here,” said Frank, as he rode his horse out of the water, and fastened him to a tree. “We must stay somewhere all night, and this is as good a camping-ground as we can find.”
“If Dick or Bob was here,” said Archie, “I wouldn’t mind it; but I don’t like the idea of our staying here alone. This is the worst scrape I was ever in; but if I once get along-side of that wagon again, I’ll stay there.”