A Boy's Trip Across the Plains

by Laura Preston

It was a long time before he looked back again for he did not like to be tempted to return, and when he did so he was startled to find that the wagons had entirely disappeared. In great affright he looked north, east, west and south, but all in vain.

At first he ran wildly about, uttering broken ejaculations of alarm, then he sat down and burst into tears, it was so dreadful to be on that vast prairie alone. He soon grew calm for his tears relieved his overcharged heart. He arose and looked carefully around, and for the first time noticed that the trees which had seemed but a short distance from the camp, looked as far off as ever.

"It is plain," said he to himself, "that those trees are at a great distance. Of course, Mr. Harwood could calculate their distance though I could not, and would certainly never have ventured so far to hunt. George must have been mistaken."

Then he wondered that the flask he had so long carried in his hand had not oppressed him by its weight. With many misgivings he opened it, and found that he had been most basely, cruelly deceived. The flask was empty.

I think it is not surprising that Guy was very angry, and made some very foolish vows as to how he would "serve George out" if he ever gained the camp again. Ah! yes, if he ever gained it! But the question was how he was to do so, for the long prairie grass quite covered the tracks he had made and he was uncertain from what point he had come, and there was nothing in that great solitude to indicate it.

Oh, how Guy wished that the tall grass, which he had thought so beautiful, was level with the earth, "Then I should be able to see the wagons," he thought, "but they have now moved on into some slight hollow, and I may never see them more."

Oh! how bitterly he reproached himself for his foolish trustfulness in George Harwood, and again for ever having persuaded his mother to undertake such a perilous journey. For even then he thought more of his mother's sorrow than his own danger, saying again and again: "I shall be lost, and my mother's heart will break. Oh, my dear, dear mother?"

"Well, well!" he exclaimed aloud, after spending a few moments in such sad reflections, "it is no use for me to stand here. There is one thing certain, I can meet nothing worse than death on this prairie if I go back, and if I stay here it will certainly come to me, so I will try to make for the wagons, and if I fail I shall know it is not for the want of energy."

So he forced his way again through the rank grass, this time with his back to the belt of trees, though he knew that they were growing by the side of water, for which he was eagerly wishing, for the sun was very hot, and as he had taken nothing since morning he was fast becoming faint with hunger and thirst.