With this thought did they separate; intending to start afresh on the following morning, throw themselves once more upon the trail of the two men who were missing, and follow it up, till one or both should be found—one or both, living or dead.
The party left with Spangler remained upon the spot which the major had chosen as a camping ground.
They were in all less than a dozen. A larger number was deemed unnecessary. Comanches, in that quarter, were no longer to be looked for; nor was there any other danger that called for a strength of men. Two or three would have been sufficient for the duty required of them.
Nine or ten stayed—some out of curiosity, others for the sake of companionship. They were chiefly young men—sons of planters and the like. Calhoun was among them—the acknowledged chief of the party; though Spangler, acting as guide, was tacitly understood to be the man to whom obedience should be given.
Instead of going to sleep, after the others had ridden away, they gathered around a roaring fire, already kindled within the thicket glade.
Among them was no stint for supper—either of eatables or drinkables. The many who had gone back—knowing they would not need them—had surrendered their haversacks, and the “heel-taps” of their canteens, to the few who remained. There was liquor enough to last through the night—even if spent in continuous carousing.
Despite their knowledge of this—despite the cheerful crackling of the logs, as they took their seats around the fire—they were not in high spirits.
One and all appeared to be under some influence, that, like a spell, prevented them from enjoying a pleasure perhaps not surpassed upon earth.
You may talk of the tranquil joys of the domestic hearth. At times, upon the prairie, I have myself thought of, and longed to return to them. But now, looking back upon both, and calmly comparing them, one with the other, I cannot help exclaiming:
“Give me the circle of the camp-fire, with half-a-dozen of my hunter comrades around it—once again give me that, and be welcome to the wealth I have accumulated, and the trivial honours I have gained—thrice welcome to the care and the toil that must still be exerted in retaining them.”