uth, east, and west, with inquiring glances at the blank
horizon, and of course gave a blank reply.

"You see, massa," he said, apologetically, "you hoed a-rollin' ober an'
ober in sitch a way, dat it rader confused me, an' I forgits to look
whar we was, an' den I was so awrful cut up for fear you's gone dead,
dat I t'ink ob nuffin else--an' now, it's too late!"

"Too late indeed," rejoined Lawrence, with a feeling of bitterness,
"nevertheless, we must ride somewhere. Catch our horses, Quashy, and I
will wait for you and think."

Having applied himself to that most difficult process--thinking out a
plan with insufficient material for thought--our hero resolved to ride
in what he supposed--judging by the position of the sun--was an easterly
direction, hoping to strike the trail of the pursuers and fugitives
before night.

"You see, Quashy," he remarked, as they galloped swiftly over the
flowering plains, "we are almost sure to find the trail in a short time;
for although neither you nor I have had much experience in following
trails in the wilderness, we have got some sort of idea--at least I
have, from books--of how the thing should be done, and even the most
stupid white man could scarcely ride across the track of several hundred
horsemen without observing it."

"Das true, massa. Eben the stoopidist black man am equal to dat. But
what if you's mistook de d'rection, an' we's ridin' west instead ob
east?"

"Why then, Quashy, we'd discover our mistake sooner or later by arriving
at the Andes," returned Lawrence, with a bland smile.

"Hi! I don' mean west," returned the negro, with a reciprocal grin;
"you couldn't be so mistook as dat--but s'pose you'se go souf by
mistake?"

"Why, then the straits of Magellan would bring us up."

"Ah--well, massa, I dun know whar de straits ob Majillum is, but it
would be a comfort to be brought up anywhar, for den you couldn't go no
farder. An' if we's on de right track, we're sure to come to de
Atlantic at last, eben if we miss de Injins an' de sodjers altogidder.
Das pleasant to t'ink on--i'n't it?"

Apparently Lawrence did not think it remarkably pleasant, for he paid no
further attention to the remarks of his companion, but proceeded along
with a profound, almost stern, gravity, and with his eyes glancing
keenly right and left after the most approved manner of the Indian brave
or the backwoods scout.

No track or trail, however, of any kind was to be seen. For more