rtable, instead of growing hour by
hour more confident and at his ease.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

HUNTED BY INDIANS.

There's something wonderfully inspiriting in sunshine--something that
makes the heart leap and the blood course through the veins, raising the
spirits, and sending trouble along with darkness far away into the
background.

As the sun rose, flooding the wild plains with heat, and Bart drew rein
and looked about after his long night-ride to see that there was hardly
a cloud in sight, and, better still, no sign of Indians, he uttered a
cry of joy, and bent down and smoothed and patted his brave little
steed, which had carried him so far and so well.

Then he had a good look round, to see if he could make out his position,
and, after a while, came to the conclusion that he was not so very far
out of his way, and that by turning off a little more to the west he
would soon be in the direct route.

In patting and making much of Black Boy, Bart found that the little
horse was dripping with perspiration, many, many miles running having
been got over in the night; and if the journey was to be satisfactorily
performed, he knew that there must be some time for rest.

With this idea, then, Bart turned a little to the east, and rode
straight for a clump of trees about a couple of miles away, a spot that
promised ample herbage and shade, perhaps water, while, unseen, he could
keep a good look-out over the open plain.

The patch Bart reached was only of a few acres in extent, and it offered
more than he had bargained for, there being a pleasantly clear pool of
water in an open spot, while the grass was so tempting that he had
hardly time to remove Black Boy's bit, so eager was he to begin. He was
soon tethered to a stout sapling, however, feeding away to his heart's
content, while, pretty well wearied out by his long night-ride, Bart sat
down beneath a tree where he could have a good view of the plain over
which he had ridden, and began to refresh himself, after a good draught
of pure cool water, with one of the long dry strips of bison-meat that
formed his store.

Nature will have her own way. Take away from her the night's rest that
she has ordained for man's use and refreshment, and she is sure to try
and get it back. And so it was here; for as Bart sat munching there in
the delicious restfulness of his position, with the soft warm breeze
just playing through the leaves, the golden sunshine raining do