They had gone on for some time, when Hector’s tough little horse suddenly came down, and threw him over its head.
“Don’t care for me,” he cried; “but I’m afraid my horse has broken its leg.”
The animal had put its foot into a badger-hole. After making some violent struggles, however, it recovered itself, and Hector, getting hold of its bridle, remounted.
“We must keep a better look-out for the badger-holes. It wouldn’t be pleasant to have to continue our journey on foot,” he said, laughing.
Having stopped by the side of a pool to take a mid-day meal, give their horses water, and allow them to crop as much grass as they could during the time, the travellers pushed on until nightfall, when they encamped under shelter of a grove of aspens, close to a stream, which flowed into the South Saskatchewan. By Greensnake’s advice, only a small fire was lighted, which was to be put out when they had cooked their supper.
As soon as he had finished his meal, the Indian, taking his blanket, went and lay down close to where the horses which had been hobbled were feeding; while Loraine and Hector rolled themselves in their buffalo robes, leaving the two dogs to keep watch by their sides.
Chapter Three.
Fort Duncan, to which it is time the reader should be introduced, lay bathed in the ruddy glow of the setting sun, whose rays tinged the branches of the groves of aspen, birch, poplar, and spruce, which could be seen at some distance away, both to the east and west. It stood on the top of some high ground, rising abruptly from the margin of a stream flowing by on the north side.