eese, and he kept ready
primed, in holster at his pommel, a brace of big pistols.

On the evening of the second day after entering the piny woods of
Mississippi, he came upon a party of Creeks and Cherokees. They were
friendly; their chief offered the hospitality of the camp, venison to
eat and a buffalo hide to sleep on. These mild savages spoke a few
English words, and they had partially adopted the customs of white
people. The men wore an upper garment, like a shirt, and, about their
loins a girdle of blue cloth a yard and a half long. Their legs were
bare, their feet shod with moccasins of stag-skin. They were shorn of
all hair except a grotesque tuft on top of the head. To enhance their
masculine beauty, they sported nose-rings and painted their faces red,
blue or black. The dress of the squaws consisted of a shirt, a short
petticoat, and ornamental gaiters. Not one of them suffered a ring in
her nose or paint on her cheeks, and all seemed proud of their hair. A
dusky beauty, the chief's daughter, insisted on picketing and feeding
Arlington's horse. On the next morning, before quitting the camp, the
young man gallantly gave her a silk scarf, a present which all the
other Indians, from the chief down, envied her.

No adventure of an unpleasant kind befell Chester Arlington until
after he had crossed Black River, well on the way to Natchez. One day,
in the dusk of evening, he heard a voice from a distance shout after
him, "Ho, there!" He looked in the direction from which the shout had
been sent, and returned an answering "Hello!" but could see no person,
nor could he elicit another cry from the solitude. This unaccountable
voice, sounding in the wilderness, had a disagreeable effect on
Arlington's nerves, though he was not in the least alarmed by it. His
horse, however, tired as the brute was, pricked up its ears, gave a
suspicious snort, and moved with quicker pace. Perhaps half an hour
passed; the twilight deepened, and the weary traveller looked right
and left for a suitable camping spot for the coming night. He checked
the horse, rose in his stirrups, turning his head to prospect a green
nook near the bridle path, when, crack! whiz! and a bullet grazed his
left ear. This was more serious than a lone cry in the wilderness.
Horse and rider instantly sought security in flight. The spurs were
hardly needed to urge the black stallion forward. A brisk gallop along
such ready avenues as Jetty could follow in the darke