Double guards were posted that night, and an unusually strict watch was kept, but the long night passed by without further event worthy of record, and as the sun arose, it shined down upon the party slowly trailing along their weary way.
CHAPTER II.
THE STORM-CLOUD BREAKS.
The next day and the next passed by without any event other than such usually attendant upon an emigrant’s daily toil along the almost endless trail, and the majority of the party were inclined to laugh at the parting words of Dusky Dick, as mere vaporings, proceeding from chagrin.
But not so with all. Tom Maxwell did not take this view of it, nor did the major or Buenos Ayres, and a steady, unremitting watch was kept up, both night and day, while great precautions were used in selecting the nightly encampment.
Toward night of the second day succeeding the departure of Rouzee, the veteran guide paused until the wagon driven by young Ayres, in which also sat Major Calhoun, came up beside him.
“What’s up now, Max?”
“Nothin’, maje, as I knows on,” replied Tom. “But look yonder—d’ y’ see them ’ar trees, jest beyon’ that peint o’ risin’ ground?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, that’s the place to camp to-night. Plenty of wood, water an’ grass.”
“Well?” queried the leader, seeing that something lay beyond the guide’s words.