“Where is Kent?” was the question that greeted them on their arrival.
“He’s off chasin’ a buffler, an’ I’m thinkin’ he’ll git inter trouble, tew,” replied Potter, throwing down his load. It was now dark, and considerable anxiety was felt for the young man. Among the ones most interested was Marion Verne, though she said nothing, and was, to all appearances, indifferent as to whether Wayne Kent was there or in Nova Zembla. Such is the hypocrisy of the fair!
Meanwhile, the dashing young hunter was getting into trouble.
He had singled out a huge bull, on entering the chase, and fired several shots at him. But the animal seemed possessed of a charmed life, and led him a wild chase.
Excited by the sport, and eager to bring the noble animal down, he followed him until the rapidly-gathering darkness warned him to stop. Relinquishing his pursuit with reluctance, he pulled up his horse, and stopped to look about him.
To his utter dismay, he found himself completely out of sight of camp, and, as the sun was down, he was without a guide. He did not stop to consider long, as it was already so dark that objects were distinguishable only at a short distance, but headed his horse in the direction he supposed the camp to be, and pushed forward rapidly.
The night proved to be a dark, cloudy one, so that he was without the stars for a guide, and utterly at a loss. He wandered about, searching vainly for the welcome light of the emigrant camp-fires, until nearly morning, when, wearied with the unavailing search, he threw himself on the ground, and securing his horse to a tree near, soon fell asleep.
He had slept about an hour, he judged, when he was awakened suddenly, in that strange way that probably every one has experienced at some period during his life, namely, that of feeling as if there was some one present, though he heard nothing. Listening attentively, he soon heard the low whinny of his horse. Raising himself to a sitting posture, he listened again, and soon it was repeated, this time lower than before. Rising silently, he went to the horse, and putting his hand on his neck, whispered:
“What is the matter, Bayard? Danger?”
The animal replied with an inaudible whinny, then erected his head, and appeared to be listening intently. Following his example, the young man soon heard the sound of voices at some little distance off and, after assuring himself that they were coming no closer, he whispered to the horse to “be quiet,” and glided away in the darkness.