"I can smoke a cigar," said Peabody, desirous probably of appearing to possess one manly accomplishment.
"You will hardly find it as useful as riding in the new country you are going to, Mr. Peabody," said Ferguson dryly.
"I'd give something for a good cigar myself," said John Miles.
"I prefer riding," said Tom. "I never smoked a cigar in my life."
"You are just as well off without it, my lad," said the Scotchman. "It don't do men any good, and always harms boys."
Peabody never again mounted Solomon. One trial was sufficient, and, footsore and lame as he was, he decidedly preferred to walk.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE LOST HORSE.
Day followed day, and every sunset found the party from eighteen to twenty miles nearer the land of gold. They had not yet been molested by Indians, though on more than one occasion they had encountered the remains of those whom the savages had ruthlessly slaughtered. When they witnessed such a spectacle they were moved less by fear than indignation.