ght he will be a
murderer, in a week he will have joined the free bands, and will then
revenge himself upon society at large, for the injustice he has received
from a small portion of the community."

Till then I had never given credit to my friend for any great share of
penetration, but he prophesied truly. Late in the night the father
announced his intention of returning to his farm, and entered the
general sleeping-room of the hotel to light a cigar. A glance informed
him of all that he wished to know. Forty individuals were ranged
sleeping in their blankets, alongside of the walls, which, as I have
observed, were formed of pine logs, with a space of four or six inches
between each: parallel with the wall, next to the yard, lay the
murderer Fielding.

The father left the room, to saddle his horse. An hour afterwards the
report of a rifle was heard, succeeded by screams and cries of "Murder!
help! murder!" Every one in the sleeping-room was up in a moment, lights
were procured, and the judge was seen upon his knees with his hands upon
his hinder quarters; his neighbour Fielding was dead, and the same ball
which had passed through his back and chest had blazed the bark off the
nether parts of this pillar of Texan justice.

When the first surprise was over, pursuit of the assassin was resolved
upon, and then it was discovered that, in his revenge, the father had
not lost sight of prudence. All the horses were loose; the stable and
the court-house, as well as the bar and spirit-store of the tavern, were
in flames. While the Bostonians endeavoured to steal what they could,
and the landlord was beating his negroes, the only parties upon whom he
could vent his fury, our companions succeeded in recovering their
horses, and at break of day, without any loss but the gold watch of the
doctor, which had probably been stolen from him during his sleep, we
started for the last day's journey which we had to make in Texas.

As we rode away, nothing remained of Texan Boston except three patches
of white ashes, and a few half-burnt logs, nor do I know if that
important city has ever been rebuilt.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

We were now about twenty miles from the Red River, and yet this short
distance proved to be the most difficult travelling we had experienced
for a long while. We had to cross swamps, lagoons, and canebrakes, in
which our horses were bogged continually; so that at noon, and after a
ride of six hours, we had only