grave and their eyes cast on the ground. Dick Varley,
too, thought upon the Red-men, but his musings were
deeply tinged with the bright hues of a
first
adventure.
The mountains, the plains, the Indians, the bears, the
buffaloes, and a thousand other objects, danced wildly
before his mind's eye, and his blood careered through
his veins and flushed his forehead as he thought of
what he should see and do, and felt the elastic vigour