There were not even streams to allay the feverish thirst occasioned by fatigue and impatience.
At length a whoop from Shaw-nee-aw-kee broke the silence in which we were pursuing our way.
"Le voilà!" (There it is!)
Our less practised eye could not at first discern the faint blue strip edging the horizon, but it grew and grew upon our vision, and fatigue and all discomfort proportionably disappeared.
We were in fine spirits by the time we reached "Hastings's Woods," a noble forest, watered by a clear, sparkling stream.
Grateful as was the refreshment of the green foliage and the cooling waters, we did not allow ourselves to forget that the day was wearing on, and that we must, if possible, complete our journey before sunset; so we soon braced up our minds to continue our route, although we would gladly have lingered another hour.
The marsh of Duck Creek was, thanks to the heat of the past week, in a very different state from what it had been a few months previous, when I had been so unfortunately submerged in its icy waters.
We passed it without difficulty, and soon found ourselves upon the banks of the creek.
The stream, at this point, was supposed to be always fordable; and even were it not so, that to the majority of our party would have been a matter of little moment. To the ladies, however, the subject seemed to demand consideration.
"This water looks very deep—are you sure we can cross it on horseback?"