an named Daniel Brand, who
had been appointed to the charge of the block-house in his absence.

"Where's Henri?--oh! here he comes," exclaimed Dick, as the hunter
referred to came thundering up the slope at a charge, on a horse that
resembled its rider in size, and not a little in clumsiness of
appearance.

"Ah! mes boy. Him is a goot one to go," cried Henri, remarking Dick's
smile as he pulled up. "No hoss on de plain can beat dis one,
surement."

"Now then, Henri, lend a hand to fix this pack, we've no time to
palaver."

By this time they were joined by several of the soldiers and a few
hunters who had come to see them start.

"Remember, Joe," cried one, "if you don't come back in three months
we'll all come out in a band to seek you."

"If we don't come back in less than that time, what's left o' us won't
be worth seekin' for," said Joe, tightening the girth of his saddle.

"Put a bit in yer own mouth, Henri," cried another, as the Canadian
arranged his steed's bridle; "ye'll need it more than yer horse when ye
git 'mong the red reptiles."

"Vraiment, if mon mout' needs one bit yours will need one padlock."

"Now, lads, mount!" cried Joe Blunt as he vaulted into the saddle.

Dick Varley sprang lightly on his horse, and Henri made a rush at his
steed and hurled his huge frame across its back with a violence that
_ought_ to have brought it to the ground; but the tall, raw-boned,
broad-chested roan was accustomed to the eccentricities of its master,
and stood the shock bravely. Being appointed to lead the pack-horse,
Henri seized its halter; then the three cavaliers shook their reins,
and, waving their hands to their comrades, they sprang into the woods at
full gallop, and laid their course for the "far west."

For some time they galloped side by side in silence, each occupied with
his own thoughts, Crusoe keeping close beside his master's horse. The
two elder hunters evidently ruminated on the object of their mission and
the prospects of success, for their countenances were grave and their
eyes cast on the ground. Dick Varley, too, thought upon the Red-men,
but his musings were deeply tinged with the bright hues of a _first_
adventure. The mountains, the plains, the Indians, the bears, the
buffaloes, and a thousand other objects, danced wildly before his mind's
eye, and his blood careered through his veins and flushed his forehead
as he thought of what he should see and do, and felt the elastic vigou