the elevation of the place, exceedingly dangerous, were provided in profusion. A pile of dried leaves and splinters were placed, as a beacon, on the upper rock, and then, even in the jealous judgment of the squatter, the post was deemed competent to maintain a creditable siege.

The moment the rock was thought to be in a state of sufficient security, the party who composed what might be called the sortie, sallied forth on their anxious expedition. The advance was led by Esther in person, who, attired in a dress half masculine, and bearing a weapon like the rest, seemed no unfit leader for the group of wildly clad frontiermen, that followed in her rear.

“Now, Abiram;” cried the Amazon, in a voice that was cracked and harsh, for the simple reason of being used too often on a strained and unnatural key, “now, Abiram, run with your nose low; show yourself a hound of the true breed, and do some credit to your training. You it was that saw the prints of the Indian moccasin, and it behoves you, to let others be as wise as yourself. Come; come to the front, man; and give us a bold lead.”

The brother, who appeared at all times to stand in awe of his sister’s authority, complied; though it was with a reluctance so evident, as to excite sneers, even among the unobservant and indolent sons of the squatter. Ishmael, himself, moved among his tall children, like one who expected nothing from the search, and who was indifferent alike to its success or failure. In this manner the party proceeded until their distant fortress had sunk so low, as to present an object no larger nor more distinct than a hazy point, on the margin of the prairie. Hitherto their progress had been silent and somewhat rapid, for as swell after swell was mounted and passed, without varying, or discovering a living object to enliven the monotony of the view, even the tongue of Esther was hushed in increasing anxiety. Here, however, Ishmael chose to pause, and casting the butt of his rifle from his shoulder to the ground, he observed—

“This is enough. Buffaloe signs, and deer signs, ar’ plenty; but where ar’ thy Indian footsteps, Abiram?”

“Still farther west,” returned the other, pointing in the direction he named. “This was the spot where I struck the tracks of the buck; it was after I took the deer, that I fell upon the Teton trail.”

“And a bloody piece of work you made of it, man,” cried the squatter, pointing tauntily to the soiled garments of his kinsman, and then directing the attention of the spectators to his own, by the way of a triumphant contrast. “Here have I cut the throats of two lively does, and a scampering fawn, without spot or stain; while you, blundering dog as you ar’, have made as much work for Eester and her girls, as though butchering was your regular calling. Come, boys; it is enough. I am too old not to know the signs of the frontiers; no Indian has been here since the last fall of water. Follow me; and I will make a turn that shall give us at least the beef of a fallow cow for our trouble.”

“Follow me!” echoed Esther, stepping undauntedly forward. “I am leader to-day, and I will be followed. Who so proper, let me know, as a mother, to head a search for her own lost child?”

Ishmael regarded his intractable mate with a smile of indulgent pity. Observing that she had already struck out a path for herself, different both from that of Abiram and the one he had seen fit to choose, and being unwilling to draw the cord of authority too tight, just at that moment, he submitted to her will. But Dr. Battius, who had hitherto been a silent and thoughtful attendant on the woman, now saw fit to raise his feeble voice in the way of remonstrance.

“I agree with thy partner in life, worthy and gentle Mrs. Bush,” he said, “in believing that some ignis fatuus of the imagination has deceived Abiram, in the signs or symptoms of which he has spoken.”

“Symptoms, yourself!” interrupted the termagant. “This is no time for bookish words, nor is this a place to stop and swallow medicines. If you are a-leg-weary, say so, as a plain-speaking man should; then seat yourself on the prairie, like a hound that is foot-sore, and take your natural rest.”