“What is it?”
“You’ll see. Get your horse ready; we’re going to ride.”
“And how about the work?”
“Nonsense! You’ve done your share. However, I expect to be back by noon, and then you can measure, as much as you will.”
After arranging with Bancroft for my absence, we started; and as Sam made a mystery of the object of our expedition, I said nothing to show that I suspected what it was.
We went back of the ravine where we were surveying to a stretch of prairie which Sam had pointed out the day before. It was two good miles broad, and surrounded by woody heights, from which flowed a brook irrigating the plain. We rode to the westerly boundary, where the grass was freshest, and here Sam securely tied his horse—his borrowed horse—and let him graze. As he looked about him an expression of satisfaction shone on his rugged face, like sunshine on rocks. “Dismount, sir,” he said, “and tie your horse strong; we’ll wait here.”
“Why tie him so strongly?” I asked, though I knew well.
“Because you might lose him. I have often seen horses go off with such companions.”
“Such companions as what?” I asked.
“Try to guess.”