“Alight, brother!” he cried; “alight, and help me. Off with your shirt—it is whiter than mine.”
Lucien, half comprehending his design, immediately pulled off his blouse, and after that his shirt—which was of bleached cotton cloth lightly striped, and in the dim light showed nearly white. Basil took hold of it; and hurriedly tore off the sleeves. He then drew it upon the dog; and having passed the animal’s fore-feet through the arm-holes, tied the collar securely around his throat with a piece of thong, and knotted the skirts over the flanks behind. Thus arrayed, Marengo looked like a street monkey; and was rendered quite visible in the glimmering darkness.
“Now!” cried Basil, exultingly, “we can follow him if it were as dark as pitch.”
“Stay a moment,” said Lucien; “let us make sure. It is clear enough—I can write yet.” As Lucien said this, he took out his note-book, and wrote:—
“François, come back on your own trail. You will find us upon it. If you cannot follow it, let Marengo guide you.”
He tore out the leaf, handing it to Basil, who fastened it securely to the shirt.
Marengo was again set loose, and took to the trail, while both mounted hastily and followed him.
Fortunately the night did not turn out so dark as they had anticipated; and they could see the white covering with sufficient distinctness to enable them to follow it, even at a gallop. And thus they rode for nearly another hour—Basil still blazing their trail as they swept past the timber islets.
All at once, as they rounded a thick grove, a bright object glistened before their eyes. It was a blazing fire under the shadow of some tall trees! Marengo made straight for it. Fearing it might be an encampment of Indians, Basil galloped forward; and, alighting from his horse, intercepted the dog. A halt was made to determine what was best to be done. At that moment the fire blazed up, and a spotted object was seen near it. Hurrah! It was François’ mustang! Basil and Lucien now advanced rapidly; and, to their great joy, beheld François sitting by the fire holding something over the blaze. The next moment the brothers were in each other’s arms, all three weeping with joy as they embraced!
François soon related his adventures. He had killed his turkey, and then lost himself; but instead of going back upon his own trail, as Basil had done, he had wandered about until night-fall, at intervals shouting and firing his gun. At times his spirit failed him; and he rode for long stretches without touching the bridle, or in any way guiding his horse. Wearied at length, he dismounted, and tied the animal to a tree. It was night when he did so; and feeling cold and hungry, he took courage and kindled a fire. Fortunately the gobbler still hung from the cantle of his saddle; and he had just singed, and was roasting it over the fire, when so agreeably interrupted by the approach of his brothers. At sight of the fine broiling turkey, Basil and Lucien became as hungry as a pair of wolves—for, in consequence of their anxiety, they had not thought of dining. The roast was soon ready; and, after a plentiful supper—which Marengo shared—the young hunters staked their horses upon the grass, wrapped themselves in their blankets, and went to sleep.