“Away!” he cried, and once more pulled on his reins.
At the same instant Charley Gorse got under headway, and sending forth their shrill whistles, the Steam Horse and his human-shaped brother trotted away.
[CHAPTER IX.]
THE AVENGER’S VOW.
Our story turns to a spot about five or six miles away from the place last mentioned.
Just where the rolling prairie was barred by a patch of woods, long, narrow and dark, a hardy pioneer had erected a rough but substantial dwelling, which, with the waving grass of the plains in front and the dark foliage of the adjacent strip of timber land to form a background, looked as pretty and tasteful as a picture.
Only a very brave man, one who laughed at danger could have been sufficiently heedless of peril to build a dwelling in such an unprotected location.
Jared Dwight knew no such thing as fear.
He had brought his wife and two little children here, had camped in the patch of woods while building the house, and had then taken up his residence in the out-of-the-way dwelling with all the coolness in the world.
His wife was one of those brave, hardy women of the West, who could handle a rifle with skill, and shoot down a stag as well as she could cook the animal after she had slain it.