rode off from the inhospitable _caravanserai_ of the Jackson Hotel--
leaving its warlike landlord to chew his tobacco, and such reflections
as my remarks had given rise to.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THROUGH THE FOREST.

As we passed up the street, I was conscious of being the subject of
Swampville speculation. Staring faces at the windows, and gaping groups
around the doors, proved by their looks and gestures, that I was
regarded as a rare spectacle. It could scarcely be my companion who was
the object of this universal curiosity. A buckskin hunting-shirt was an
everyday sight in Swampville--not so a well-mounted _military_ man,
armed, uniformed, and equipped. No doubt, my splendid Arab,
_caracoling_ as if he had not been out of the stable for a week, came in
for a large share of the admiration.

We were soon beyond its reach. Five minutes sufficed to carry us out of
sight of the Swampvillians: for, in that short space of time, we had
cleared the suburbs of the "city," and were riding under the shadows of
an unbroken forest. Its cold gloom gave instantaneous relief--shading
us at one and the same time from the fiery sun, and the glances of
vulgar observation through which we had run the gauntlet. I at least
enjoyed the change; and for some minutes we rode silently on, my guide
keeping in advance of me.

This mode of progression was not voluntary, but a necessity, arising
from the nature of the road--which was a mere "trace" or bridle-path
"_blazed_" across the forest. No wheel had ever made its track in the
soft deep mud--into which, at every step, our steeds sank far above the
fetlocks--and, as there was not room for two riders abreast, I followed
the injunction of my companion by keeping my horse's head "at the tail
o' his'n." In this fashion we progressed for a mile or more, through a
tract of what is termed "bottom-timber"--a forest of those gigantic
water-loving trees--the sycamore and cotton-wood. Their tall grey
trunks rose along the path, standing thickly on each side, and sometimes
in regular rows, like the columns of a grand temple. I felt a secret
satisfaction in gazing upon these colossal forms: for my heart hailed
them as the companions of my future solitude. At the same time I could
not help the reflection, that, if my new estate was thus heavily
encumbered, the clearing of the squatter was not likely to be extended
beyond whatever limits the axe of Mr Holt had already assigned to it.

A l