ppened at the
old "waste town," as he had there first missed the animal in the file,
not one would go back with him to search the locality,--not for the
horse, not for the peltry, not even to avert the displeasure of their
employer in Charlestown. Barnett besought their aid for a time, urging
the project of rescue as they all sat around the roaring camp-fire under
the sheltering branches of a cluster of fir trees that, acting as
wind-break, served to fend off in some degree the fury of the storm. The
ruddy flare illumined far shadowy aisles of the snowy wilderness, all
agloom with the early dusk. Despite the falling flakes, they could still
see the picketed pack-horses, now freed from their burdens, huddling
together and holding down their heads to the icy blast as they munched
their forage. The supper of the young pack-men was broiling on the
coals; their faces were florid with the keen wind, their coonskin caps
all crested with snow; and the fringes of their buckskin raiment had
tinkling pendants of icicles; but although they had found good cheer in
a chortling jug, uncorked as the first preliminary of encamping, they
had not yet imbibed sufficient fictitious courage to set at naught their
fears of the old "waste town."

Barnett at last acquiesced in the relinquishment of his desire of
rescue. Some losses must needs occur in a great trade, and considering
the stress of the weather, the long distances traversed, the dangers of
the lonely wildernesses in the territory of savages, the incident would
doubtless be leniently overlooked. And then he bethought himself of the
horse,--a good horse, stout, swift, kindly disposed; a hard fate the
animal had encountered,--abandoned here to starve in these bleak winter
woods. Perhaps he might be lying there at the foot of the cliffs with a
broken leg, suffering the immeasurable agonies of a dumb beast, for the
lack of a merciful pistol-ball to put him at peace. Barnett could not
resist the mute appeal of his fancy.

Presently he was trudging alone along the icy path. The flare of the red
fire grew dim behind him; the last flicker faded. The woods were all
unillumined, ghastly white, with a hovering gray shadow. The song of the
bivouac fainted in the distance and failed; the echo grew doubtful and
dull; and now in absolute silence that somehow set his nerves aquiver he
was coming in with the dreary dusk and the driving snow to the old
"waste town," Nilaque Great.

More silent eve