ll a traveller where he may find
necessaries for the night?"

"Is the land filled on the other side of the Big River?" demanded the
old man, solemnly, and without appearing to hearken to the other's
question; "or why do I see a sight, I had never thought to behold
again?"

"Why, there is country left, it is true, for such as have money, and ar'
not particular in the choice," returned the emigrant; "but to my taste,
it is getting crowdy. What may a man call the distance, from this place
to the nighest point on the main river?"

"A hunted deer could not cool his sides, in the Mississippi, without
travelling a weary five hundred miles."

"And what may you name the district, hereaway?"

"By what name," returned the old man, pointing significantly upward,
"would you call the spot, where you see yonder cloud?"

The emigrant looked at the other, like one who did not comprehend his
meaning, and who half suspected he was trifled with, but he contented
himself by saying--

"You ar' but a new inhabitant, like myself, I reckon, stranger,
otherwise you would not be backward in helping a traveller to some
advice; words cost but little, and sometimes lead to friendships."

"Advice is not a gift, but a debt that the old owe to the young. What
would you wish to know?"

"Where I may camp for the night. I'm no great difficulty maker, as to
bed and board; but, all old journeyers, like myself, know the virtue of
sweet water, and a good browse for the cattle."

"Come then with me, and you shall be master of both; and little more is
it that I can offer on this hungry prairie."

As the old man was speaking, he raised his heavy rifle to his shoulder,
with a facility a little remarkable for his years and appearance, and
without further words led the way over the acclivity to the adjacent
bottom.

CHAPTER II

Up with my tent: here will I lie to-night,
But where, to-morrow?--Well, all's one for that
--Richard the Third.

The travellers soon discovered the usual and unerring evidences that the
several articles necessary to their situation were not far distant. A
clear and gurgling spring burst out of the side of the declivity, and
joining its waters to those of other similar little fountains in its
vicinity, their united contributions formed a run, which was easily to
be traced, for miles along the prairie, by the scattering foliage and
verdure which occasion