egmatic
Dutchmen; the bristling thorns of the mimosas, cropping out of
comparative darkness; the varied groups of emigrants; the weird forms of
the clumps of cactus, aloes, euphorbias, and other strange plants, lit
up by the fitful glare of the camp-fires, and canopied by the
star-spangled depths of a southern sky--all seemed to them the
unbelievable creations of a wild vision.

Poor Jerry Goldboy, however, had sufficient faith in the reality of the
vision to increase his nervous condition considerably, and he resolved
to lie down with his "arms handy." These arms consisted of a flint-lock
blunderbuss, an heirloom in his father's family, and a bowie-knife,
which had been presented to him by an American cousin on his leaving
England. Twice during that day's march had the blunderbuss exploded
owing to its owner's inexperience in fire-arms. Fortunately no harm had
been done, the muzzle on each occasion having been pointed to the sky,
but the ire of the Dutch driver in front of Jerry had been aroused, and
he was forbidden to reload the piece. Now, however, observing the
preparations above referred to, he felt it to be his duty to prepare for
the worst, and quietly loaded his bell-mouthed weapon with a heavy
charge of buckshot.

"What's that you're after, boy?" asked George Dally, who was making some
final arrangements at the fire, before lying down for the night.

"Oh, nothing," replied Jerry, with a start, for he had thought himself
unobserved, "only seein' to my gun before turnin' in."

"That's right," said George. "Double-load it. Nothin' like bein' ready
for whatever may turn up in a wild country like this. Why, I once knew
a man named Snip who said he had been attacked one night in South
America by a sarpint full forty feet long, and who saved his life by
means of a blunderbuss, though he didn't fire at the reptile at all."

"Indeed, how was that?" asked Jerry.

"Why, just because his weapon was bell-mouthed an' loaded a'most to the
muzzle. You see, the poor fellow was awoke out of a deep sleep and
couldn't well see, so that instead o' firin' at the brute, he fired his
blunderbuss about ten yards to one side of it, but the shot scattered so
powerfully that one o' the outside bullets hit a stone, glanced off, and
caught the sarpint in the eye, and though it failed to kill the brute on
the spot, the wound gave it such pain that it stood up on its tail and
wriggled in agony for full five minutes, sending bro