man's wicked enough for anything."

"Then, let's straight to Texas!"

CHAPTER FORTY.

"ACROSS THE SABINE."

At the time when Texas was an independent Republic, and not, as now, a
State of the Federal Union, the phrase, "Across the Sabine" was one of
noted signification.

Its significance lay in the fact, that fugitives from States' justice,
once over the Sabine, felt themselves safe; extradition laws being
somewhat loose in the letter, and more so in the spirit, at any attempt
made to carry them into execution.

As a consequence, the fleeing malefactor could breathe freely--even the
murderer imagine the weight of guilt lifted from off his soul--the
moment his foot touched Texan soil.

On a morning of early spring--the season when settlers most affect
migration to the Lone Star State--a party of horsemen is seen crossing
the boundary river, with faces turned toward Texas. The place where
they are making passage is not the usual emigrants' crossing--on the old
Spanish military road between Natchitoches and Nacogdoches,--but several
miles above, at a point where the stream is, at certain seasons,
fordable. From the Louisiana side this ford is approached through a
tract of heavy timber, mostly pine forest, along a trail little used by
travellers, still less by those who enter Texas with honest intent, or
leave Louisiana with unblemished reputations.

That these horsemen belong not to either category can be told at a
glance. They have no waggons, nor other wheeled vehicles, to give them
the semblance of emigrants; no baggage to embarrass them on their march.
Without it, they might be explorers, land speculators, surveyors, or
hunters. But no. They have not the look of persons who pursue any of
these callings; no semblance of aught honest or honourable. In all
there are twelve of them; among them not a face but speaks of the
Penitentiary--not one which does not brighten up, and show more
cheerful, as the hooves of their horses strike the Texan bank of the
Sabine.

While on the _terrain_ of Louisiana, they have been riding fast and
hard--silent, and with pent-up thoughts, as though pursuers were after.
Once on the Texan side all seem relieved, as if conscious of having at
length reached a haven of safety.

Then he who appears leader of the party, reining up his horse, breaks
silence, saying--

"Boys! I reckon we may take a spell o' rest here. We're now in Texas,
whar freemen needn't feel afeard. If