e back," said he, "to Horseshoe Creek, and see if Bisonette
is there."

"I would go with you," I answered, "but I must reserve all the strength
I have."

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself in cleaning my
rifle and pistols, and making other preparations for the journey. After
supper, Henry Chatillon and I lay by the fire, discussing the properties
of that admirable weapon, the rifle, in the use of which he could fairly
outrival Leatherstocking himself.

It was late before I wrapped myself in my blanket and lay down for the
night, with my head on my saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gave
no uneasiness, for we presumed that he had fallen in with Bisonette, and
was spending the night with him. For a day or two past I had gained in
strength and health, but about midnight an attack of pain awoke me, and
for some hours I felt no inclination to sleep. The moon was quivering on
the broad breast of the Platte; nothing could be heard except those low
inexplicable sounds, like whisperings and footsteps, which no one who
has spent the night alone amid deserts and forests will be at a loss to
understand. As I was falling asleep, a familiar voice, shouting from the
distance, awoke me again. A rapid step approached the camp, and Shaw on
foot, with his gun in his hand, hastily entered.

"Where's your horse?" said I, raising myself on my elbow.

"Lost!" said Shaw. "Where's Delorier?"

"There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of blankets and buffalo
robes.

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up sprang our faithful
Canadian.

"Come, Delorier; stir up the fire, and get me something to eat."

"Where's Bisonette?" asked I.

"The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horseshoe Creek."

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped two days before,
and finding nothing there but the ashes of our fires, he had tied his
horse to the tree while he bathed in the stream. Something startled his
horse, who broke loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catch
him. Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So he abandoned
the attempt, and set out on foot to join us. The greater part of his
perilous and solitary work was performed in darkness. His moccasins were
worn to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He sat down to eat,
however, with the usual equanimity of his temper not at all disturbed
by his misfortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep was of
Shaw, seated