spectators, even though his rider still clung as close as ever to that
Mexican saddle.

When the two returned to camp, half an hour later, it was evident that
the most perfect understanding existed between them; but the mule was so
crest-fallen by his humiliation that for a long time even Binney Gibbs
could ride and abuse him with impunity.

As for Glen, his reputation as a horseman was firmly established, and
from that day until he got a horse of his own there was always somebody
willing and anxious to place a mount at his disposal.

Chapter XIV.

ON GUARD AT NIGHT.

A few mornings after Glen's experience with the mule, the white tents of
Camp Lyle were struck; and at sunrise the long slow-moving trains of
wagons had covered the first mile of the many hundreds lying between it
and the Pacific. The last railroad had been left behind, and the sound
of its whistle was heard no more. Already our young explorer was
learning, from his more experienced comrades, to distinguish an Indian
pony and lodge-pole trail from that of a buffalo, and a buffalo wallow
from an ordinary mud-hole. Already he had seen his first prairie-dog
town, and had gazed curiously at several bleached skulls of the mighty
bison, some of which were still partially covered with shaggy hair.
Already, too, he was filled with that sense of glorious freedom and
boundless possibility that can only be breathed with the air of
unlimited space. Glen was surprised to find that, instead of being
level, as he had always thought them, the Plains rolled, in vast
undulations, having a general north and south direction, so that, as the
wagons were moving west, they were always ascending some long slope, or
descending its farther side. He was almost startled, too, by the intense
silence brooding over them, and unbroken at a short distance from the
train, save by the plaintive song of meadow-larks.

But nobody was allowed to stray far from the wagons, even to note the
silence of the Plains, for fear lest it might be broken by very
unpleasant sounds. All the "horse Indians" of the country were leagued
together, that summer, to fight the whites. North of the Platte, Sioux,
Blackfeet, and Crows had smoked the peace-pipe, and united to harass the
builders of the Union Pacific. South of that river, Cheyennes, Kiowas,
Comanches, and Arrapahoes were waging common war against those who were
turning the buffalo pastures into farms, and making such alarming
inroads i