I do not suppose there is any necessity that I should again introduce myself. If it will help to place me in your good books, however, I will tell you that I own the swiftest horse and the best dog in the settlement. Black Bess has never been beaten in a fair race, and Zip has yet to find his equal as a fighter and bear dog. I am not so modest but that I can tell you, also, that I am the champion hunter among our fellows. I killed a bear alone and unaided, and his skin now hangs on that nail at the foot of the bed; but my companions, one and all, are determined to equal me in this respect, and consequently I do not expect to hold the honors much longer. But here comes our little negro, Bob, to announce that the horses are waiting, and we must off for the camp if we intend to be back in time for supper.
CHAPTER II.
AN UNINVITED GUEST.
We found our horses at the door, saddled and bridled, and held by two negro boys, who, judging by the tugging, pulling and scolding which they kept up, found it something of a task to restrain the fiery steeds, which were impatient to be off. As I have told you about our dogs, I will say a word about these horses. One of them has considerable to do with my story.
The most prominent animal in the group was Herbert’s horse, a magnificent iron-gray, large and good-natured like his master, very fleet, and able to carry his heavy rider like a bird over any fence in the country. He went by the name of Romeo.
The handsomest horse belonged to Duke Hampton. He was a chestnut-sorrel, with white mane and tail, and four white feet. He was a good one to go, and was as well trained as any horse I ever saw in a circus.
He would lie down or stand on his hind feet at the command of his master, and pick up his gloves or riding-whip for him. His name was Moro.
The homeliest horse was called Beauty. He was a Mexican pony, and belonged to Mark. He was a famous traveler—he would go on a gallop all day, and be as fresh and eager at night as when he started out in the morning; but he was so handy with his heels, and had such an easy way of slipping out from under a fellow when he tried to mount him, that, with the exception of his master, who thought him the very best horse in the world, there was not a boy among us who would have accepted him as a gift. But bad as Beauty’s disposition was, it was much better than that of Sandy’s mare, which answered to the name of Gretchen.
She was named after Rip Van Winkle’s wife. She was a large, raw-boned, cream-colored animal, and had an ugly habit of laying back her ears and opening her mouth, when any one approached her, that would have made a stranger think twice before attempting to mount her.
The fleetest, as well as the gentlest horse, was my little Black Bess. She was a Christmas present from an uncle who lived in Kentucky; and I thought so much of her that I would have given up every thing I possessed, rather than part with her.
I said that Bess was the swiftest horse in the group. She had demonstrated the fact in many a race, but somehow I never could induce the others to acknowledge it. Sandy stubbornly refused to give up beaten, and so did Herbert; and even Mark, with his miserable little pony, made big pretensions.