“Why, you an’ me’s too heaby for one hoss, you know, an’ you said you hab on’y one.”
“Das true,” returned Quashy, entangling the knot with another.
“Well, nebber mind,” said Susan, with a little nod of assurance. “I’s put it all right. I’ll stole one.”
“Sooz’n!” exclaimed her lover, with inexpressible solemnity, “you’ll do nuffin ob de sort. I b’longs to a good man now, so I knows better dan dat. You mus’ nebber steal no more—nebber. But I’ll get massa to buy you a hoss. Das what I’ll do.”
Quashy had scarcely given utterance to his intentions, when a shout from Lawrence summoned him. The party under Colonel Marchbanks was about to start on their journey eastward.
The negro soon informed his master of his difficulty. As he had anticipated, it was removed at once. Horse-flesh is cheap on the Pampas. A lady’s wardrobe—especially a black lady’s—does not take long to pack in those regions. In less than half an hour a passable steed was purchased from the Gauchos, and Susan mounted thereon. Her little all, in a bundle, was strapped to her true-lover’s saddle, and she fell into the cavalcade, which soon afterwards left the village and rode out upon the illimitable plains.
It was not a large band, but it was composed of rare and strong materials. Our friend Pedro—alias Conrad of the Mountains—alias the Rover of the Andes—of course took the lead. Colonel Marchbanks, Manuela, and the fair Mariquita followed. Antonio, Spotted Tiger, the sportsman and his friend came next, and Lawrence with Quashy and Sooz’n brought up the rear.
In this order they set off at full gallop over the roadless plains, diverging a little here and there as the nature of the ground required, but otherwise steering a straight line in the direction of the rising sun.