pecimen of the backwoodsman, and one, who brought up the
rear, was a thin little man, who made up for what he wanted in size by
the energy and vigour of his action, as, with hand and heel, he urged an
unwilling horse to keep up with the rest of the party.

Arrived at the summit of the plateau, the leading horseman trotted to
its eastern edge, and halted as if for the purpose of surveying the
position.

"Here we are at last," he said, to the tallest of his comrades;
"Sweetwater Bluff--and the end of our journey!"

"And a most noble end it is!" exclaimed the tall comrade. "Why, Hunky
Ben, it far surpasses my expectations and all you have said about it."

"Most o' the people I've had to guide over this trail have said pretty
much the same thing in different words, Mr Brooke," returned the scout,
dismounting. "Your wife will find plenty o' subjects here for the
paintin' she's so fond of."

"Ay, May will find work here to keep her brushes busy for many a day to
come," replied Charlie, "though I suspect that other matters will claim
most of her time at first, for there is nothing but a wilderness here
yet."

"You've yet to larn, sir, that we don't take as long to _fix_ up a town
hereaway as you do in the old country," remarked Hunky Ben, as old Jacob
Crossley ambled up on the staid creature which we have already
introduced as _Wheelbarrow_.

Waving his hand with enthusiasm the old gentleman exclaimed, "Glorious!"
Indeed, for a few minutes he sat with glistening eyes and heaving
chest, quite unable to give vent to any other sentiment than "glorious!"
This he did at intervals. His interest in the scene, however, was
distracted by the sudden advent of Captain Stride, whose horse--a
long-legged roan--had an awkward tendency, among other eccentricities,
to advance sideways with a waltzing gait, that greatly disconcerted the
mariner.

"Woa! you brute. Back your tops'ls, won't you? I _never_ did see sitch
a craft for heavin' about like a Dutch lugger in a cross sea. She sails
side on, no matter where she's bound for. Forges ahead a'most entirely
by means of leeway, so to speak. Hallo! woa! Ketch a grip o' the
painter, Dick, an' hold on till I git off the hurricane deck o' this
walrus--else I'll be overboard in a--. There--" The captain came to the
ground suddenly as he spoke, without the use of stirrup, and, luckily,
without injury.

"Not hurt I hope?" asked Dick Darvall, assisting his brother-salt to
rise.