COLONEL CROCKETT,
THE TEXAN TRAILER.

BY CHAS. E. LASALLE.

NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.

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"I say, stranger, did you see any thing of a confounded big b'ar passing this way?"

The question was uttered by Davy Crockett, the renowned bear-killer of Tennessee, as, dashing at full speed through the dense forest, he suddenly emerged into a small clearing, where a big Dutchman sat on a log eating his dinner. The latter stared at the glowing hunter for a moment, and with his mouth crammed so full that he could hardly speak, he said:

"Hooh! vat you said?"

"Did you see a b'ar pass this way, a few minutes ago?"

"Vat kind of a bear vas he?"

"A black bear and a regular whopper."

"Vas he goin' py hees legs, or vas he flyin' mit his wings?"

Crockett stared at the Dutchman, as if meditating whether to bring him to his senses or not by breaking his gun over his head; but there was such an appearance of honesty in his countenance, that, despite his hurry, he paused to exchange a word or two with him.

"Dutchy, did you ever see a bear?"

"Yaw, I vos."

"Did you ever see one fly through the air?"

"Yaw—more as goot many times."

"When?"

"I see'd one only next day after yisterday. He had wings so big as never vos, and had von sheep dat he hold fast mit his toes."

Crockett laughed.

"You old Dutch blunderbuss, you mean an eagle."

"Yaw; vot kinds does I means?"

"A bald-headed eagle, I suppose."

"Yaw—dat's him; ef he bald-headed, den he bare-headed, ain't he?"

"I suppose."

"Den he eagle vot was bare—hooh? vot you call him?"

"Yes."

"Den he bear mit wings."

And the Dutchman laughed, as though he had said something extremely funny, while Crockett was amused in spite of himself.

"Vos he great pig bear, mit four legs?" inquired the Hollander, suddenly becoming serious again.

"Yes—a ring-tailed roarer."

"And he hop along so?" he continued, dropping on his hands and feet and hopping along like a frog.

"Something like that," assented Crockett.

"And his mouth open, mit his tongue hanging in?"

"Yes—yes: which way did he go?"

"Yaw; I hash not seen notting of him!"

And again the Dutchman laughed until he was ready to fall off the log, all the while cramming his mouth with food.

There was no little humor in Colonel Crockett, and the round fat Dutchman, shaking with laughter, like so much jelly, was more then he could stand, and throwing back his head, he made the forest ring with his own mirth.

This made Hans Bungslager go it harder then ever, till finally he capsized—and tipping over the log backward, the last Crockett saw of him, as he moved away, was his dumpy legs beating the air, as he sought to complete his partial summerset so as to rise to the standing position again.

But Colonel Crockett was seeking the trail of the most enormous bear he had seen since coming into Texas, and as he had a special anxiety to secure and take it back to camp, he was fearful of losing too much time.

So, without cultivating the acquaintance of Bungslager any further, he turned his back upon him and struck into the woods, making for a point where he believed there was a good prospect of finding his prey.

I may say, to relieve all anxiety of the reader, that Hans finally succeeded in turning over on his face, and regaining his feet. He was very nearly choking, however, from the food which had gone the "wrong way," and, when he finally recovered his self-command, and looked around for the American hunter, he had vanished like a phantom.

All this was some thirty odd years ago. The eccentric Colonel Crockett, who had served several terms in Congress, had been disappointed of a reëlection, and had left Tennessee and gone off to the territory, or rather republic, of Texas, there to join the Texans who were gallantly struggling for their independence against Santa Anna, and the hordes of Mexicans that were overrunning the country.

Crockett was a born hunter, and when he reached this part of the world, he found there was an abundance of game—so much that he was tempted to linger by the way, and delay his visit to the Alamo, which was doomed to make such a wonderful struggle against the overwhelming forces that were marshaling against it.

He, with several friends, was therefore off on a several days' hunt in the wilds of eastern Texas. He had joined a party on their way to the Alamo, but while they halted at a small village some miles back, he had gone on with several others to take part in a grand hunt.

In that vast State, as is well known, are found buffaloes, deer, pumas, ocelots, jaguars, wild-cats, black bears, wolves, foxes, raccoons, opossums, rabbits, hares, squirrels, antelope, mountain goats and moose; besides, prairie-hens, wild geese, wild turkeys, brant, teal, canvas-back ducks, pheasants, quails, partridges, grouse, woodcock, pigeons, turtle-doves, rice-birds, and numerous others—to which may be added murderous Mexicans, and equally murderous and more daring Comanches, Apaches and other tribes, so that there was a good prospect of Crockett and his friends securing all the sport that they could possibly wish.

Starting off together, they had gone but a short distance when they discovered a dozen buffaloes grazing on the slope of a hill, about a quarter of a mile distant, and the whole parted, dashed away in pursuit.

The buffaloes took the alarm, and while yet a good ways off, thundered away at full speed, leading the hunters on quite a long chase. They were in full tilt after them, when the keen eye of Colonel Crockett detected an immense bear on his right, making for the cover of a dense tract of forest.

Davy Crockett had a weakness for bears; he had slain his hundreds in the wilds of Tennessee, and he preferred hunting them to any species of game known. So the instant he caught sight of this monster, he shouted:

"Go ahead after the buffaloes, and I'll chase the bear."

With which he turned his mustang to the right, and sped away in pursuit of his favorite prey.

But bruin had a good start, and made such good time that he plunged into the wood several hundred yards in advance of Crockett, who strained every point to catch up with the frightened brute.

It was of no avail, however, and hurrying in a short distance among the trees, Crockett found the wood too dense to continue the pursuit on horseback; and, determined not to lose his sport in this way, he leaped to the ground, hastily fastened his bridle to a limb, and continued the pursuit on foot.

His skill enabled him to keep on the trail of the bear, without trouble, until, while running at full speed, he dashed into the clearing, where Hans Bungslager was eating his dinner on the log. The particulars of their interview have been given.

In his great haste, and in dodging in and out among the trees and undergrowth, Crockett had gotten off the trail of the bear, and was hunting for it when he ran against Hans Bungslager. He knew that he could not be far from his game, and that by running across the general direction he had been following he was certain of intersecting it.

This he did, and, as he anticipated, met with success, almost immediately. Such a large animal as a bear, and especially this one, could not fail to leave a perceptible trail, which the keen eyes of Crockett were quick to detect.

The hunter was deprived of one great advantage. When hunting in the Tennessee canebrakes, he was always accompanied by a number of dogs, that were sure to "tree" their game very quickly and to afford the greatest assistance in the hunt. But now he had not a single yelper with him, and was compelled to rely on himself entirely.

Hark! He heard the crackling of twigs and brush ahead—evidence that he was gaining rapidly upon his prey. He bent to the pursuit with renewed ardor, and, although he could not see the bear, he knew that he was close upon him.

On, on dashed the hunter, tearing through the underbrush, with scarcely a halt to turn aside, until a wild scream of agony made his blood tingle, and leaping into a small clearing the next instant, he beheld a scene so exciting in its character that it almost stopped the beating of his heart.

The bear seemed to know that a dangerous enemy was upon his track, and was not only frightened but infuriated by the fact. In his aimless flight, he came directly upon a small clearing, in the center of which stood a log-cabin cottage, surrounded by a small patch of cultivated ground.

At the very moment of his appearance, a lithe, handsome young lady was passing across this clearing with a pail of water in her hand. Catching sight of the bear, she uttered a shrill scream of terror, that caught Crockett's ear, and ran at full speed for the open door of her cabin, while the exasperated brute, with a growl of fury, made for her.

The girl was fleet of foot, and seemed to run with the speed of the wind; but the bear was so close upon her, that, when she darted into the door she had not time to close it behind her.

As Davy Crockett sprung into the clearing he caught a glimpse of the girl as she vanished through the door, and saw the huge brute lunging after her. As quick as thought his rifle was at his shoulder, and he blazed away at his hind quarters, so rapidly disappearing from view.

It would have been better if the shot had not been fired, for, striking the monster in the haunch, it did not inflict even a dangerous wound, and only succeeded in adding to the fury of the animal, whose rage was already at the boiling-point.

The hunter saw him twitch from the stinging pain, as, with an ominous, cavernous growl, he disappeared in the cabin, from whose interior were heard the heart-rending shrieks of the terror-stricken girl.

Crockett became desperate. His rifle was of no further use, and throwing it aside, he threw his arm back of his neck, and drew forth an awful-looking knife—a genuine Bowie, presented to the hunter by the daring little inventor himself.

"Panthers and wildcats!" he exclaimed, as he ran like a deer across the clearing; "that bear has got into the wrong pen, and ef he isn't got out in a hurry, he'll raise the biggest kind of a rumpus, which I rather reckon he's doing now!"

In a twinkling, he was at the door, and without hesitation sprung within. Only a glance was needed to understand the situation.

The fair fugitive, upon reaching the interior of the cabin, had felt instinctively that there was no safety upon the lower floor, and had gone up the stairs in the corner, in a more expeditious manner than she had ever done before.

The bear evidently had not seen her, and was nosing around for her in the lower apartment. When the hunter bounded into the room, he was the very man he wanted to see and he "went for him."

Crockett had been in a hand-to-hand struggle before with these creatures and he knew what they were. He wasn't particularly anxious to be caught at a disadvantage, so when the brute made a plunge at him, he dodged and slipped aside, the bear striking with such force against the door that it was banged to, and the two contestants were thus shut together.

"Come up-stairs! quick!" shouted the same voice that had uttered the screams. "Come quick or you will be killed! he will have you sure, if you don't hurry!"

Now, if this same voice had only remained quiet, it is not at all improbable that Crockett might have retreated up-stairs; but, with his characteristic stubbornness, he determined to pay no heed to this appeal, while at the same time he was actuated by a suspicion that perhaps the bear might invade this retreat, and thus endanger the young lady whom he was so anxious to befriend.

"Never mind me," he called out, as he dodged to the other side of the room and kept his eyes fixed keenly upon his antagonist. "I've been in this kind of business afore, but look out the brute don't find out where you are, for I don't blame him for wanting to swaller such a purty piece."

The girl didn't appeal to him any more: doubtless she concluded she was only wasting her breath.

The lower floor, I should remark, was like the ordinary apartments of the log-cabins on the frontier. One large room occupied the lower part of the building, and here were the fire-place, closet, table, chairs and various domestic articles.

Crockett glanced at the fire-place in the hope of finding some embers there, but one look showed that the young lady had made her preparations for kindling a fire, but the light had not yet been applied; so that means of defense was thereby rendered unavailable.

But he still grasped his huge Bowie, all-potent in his hands, and he concluded it was time his formidable enemy was made to feel its point.

The bear did not permit him to remain idle long, but turning with wonderful quickness for such a lumbering animal, he reared on his hind legs, and with his red mouth open and growling voice, came in a direct line toward him.

Every thing was now to be sacrificed for defense, and catching up the table, Crockett slammed it full in the face of the bear, and then darting nimbly forward, plunged his knife half-way to the hilt in his body. He would have driven it to the handle, had not the point encountered a bone.

Having no time to repeat the blow, he withdrew the weapon, and leaped backward, just in time to escape the furious lunge of the brute. The blood poured in a stream from the frightful wound made, but the bear seemed to feel no loss of strength and to be unconscious of the hurt he had received.

A few more such blows, however, were only needed to "settle the hash" of the creature, and Crockett now endeavored to inflict them as speedily as possible, without receiving any return.

The bear was awkward in his movements, but there was also a certain swiftness that made it exceedingly dangerous to his antagonist. At the same time, his size compelled more dexterity upon the part of Crockett, who leaped and danced about the room like an acrobat on exhibition.

Finding himself in a corner, the hunter was forced to dart so close to the bear that its descending paw grazed his back and tore off a few strips from his hunting-shirt, and a twinge or two of pain, reminded him of what was in store for him, if the brute once got him in his embrace.

Again the knife sunk deeply into the body of the bear, being driven this time from the back, and sent in with such vigor, that it produced a sensible effect upon the raging monster.

But such a mass of vitality was not easily destroyed, and for the time the bear was more furious than ever. Crockett was kept so continually dodging and leaping about, that he found it utterly impossible to get in another blow; and as he circled around the room, he was in imminent peril of being thrown down by some of the articles of furniture that were continually in his way.

Moving thus, too, he caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes, peering down from the stairs, while the fair owner held a rifle in her hands as if awaiting the opportunity to use it.

"Shall I shoot?" she finally asked, in a suppressed voice, as he passed near her.

"When you're sartin of plugging him," replied Crockett, never once removing his eyes from the glowing orbs of the beast.

It was plain that if the hunter was going to escape with his life, something must be done to weaken the bear, that was pressing him so close that a collision could not be postponed much longer.

Any man who has ever met Colonel Davy Crockett knows that when fairly aroused he had a fearful temper, and was reckless in what he did. His blood was now fairly up, and he determined that he had retreated about long enough.

"Confound you!" he muttered, as he steadied himself against the side of the wall, preparatory to making his charge, "do you think I am afeard of you?"

And then uttering a yell, such as he had heard escape the throats of the Creek Indians at the massacre of Fort Mimms, he bounded toward his foe.

The bear at this minute was reared on his hind legs, with paws up. Crockett, as he reached these formidable weapons, ducked his head, so as to pass beneath them, and as quick as thought buried his knife into the side of the brute.

It was a terrible blow, and gave the creature such a spasm of pain that his paws dropped almost involuntarily, and Crockett was compelled to extricate himself in such haste, that he was unable to withdraw his knife and take it with him.

This made his situation ten-fold more perilous. He had no weapon at all with which to defend himself, and it was only left for him to await the fierce onslaught of the terrible foe. Thoroughly aroused, he was determined on recovering his knife, even though at the imminent risk of his life.

"Come up-stairs!" shouted the terrified girl, who was vainly seeking a chance to fire upon the bear, "he will kill you now, sure!"

"Let him kill me then!" was the stubborn reply of Crockett. "I am going to git that knife ag'in, or he's going to git me."

Believing he had a chance, the hunter made a lunge for it. He struck the handle, but he could not retain his hold, and, as his hand slipped off, he received a staggering blow from the bear, that knocked him to the floor.

A gasp of terror escaped the girl, but Crockett recovered himself and made another attempt to regain his property.

Again his hand grasped the handle, and the brute made for him. Had the hunter let the knife go, and sprung out of the way, he would have escaped easily; but, mad with rage, he held fast to it, refusing to loosen his grip, even when he felt the weight of the paws upon his shoulders.

With a desperate effort, he jerked the Bowie loose, the blood gushing after it in a copious stream. Then he attempted to pull away, but it was too late, and the two went down together, locked in a death embrace, Crockett believing that his last day had come!

Certain that the hunter was doomed to death, the fair stranger, whose own escape had been so narrow, could restrain herself no longer. With rifle in hand, she leaped down the stairs, and made her way toward the combatants upon the floor.

Colonel Crockett was in great extremity, for, in spite of the terrible wounds the bear had received, he still possessed tremendous strength, and now that he had got his foe in his arms, he was bent on giving him the "death-hug," without any unnecessary delay.

But the hunter now had the Bowie in his powerful right hand; he used it with all the strength and skill at his command. While his own face was in such proximity to the terrible snout of the wood monster, he plunged his knife again and again into his side, with a frequency and power certainly sufficient to kill any animal but a Texan bear.

Still the fearful gripe of those immense fore legs, grew more rigid each moment, until Crockett felt the breath of life leaving his body, and was certain that the walls of his breast were being caved in.

"Fire! quick!" he managed to gasp, as he saw the girl with the gun standing near them.

"I am afraid of hitting you!"

"Never mind if you do—don't wait."

Placing the muzzle directly against the head of the monster, the girl pulled the trigger of her rifle.

The most vital part of the bear was pierced. The ball went crashing through his brain, and with a sort of sigh, his great strength failed him; he rolled heavily over upon his side, and breathed his last.

As quick as a flash, Colonel Crockett disengaged himself and sprung to his feet.

"Oh, you are killed!" wailed the girl, as she sunk upon the edge of one of the overturned chairs, "you can not live with such frightful wounds!"

The hunter was indeed a distressing object to look upon. The blood from the beast covered him almost from head to foot, and, scattered over his face, it made him look as if he had been lacerated by the claws of the brute.

"Me!" exclaimed the delighted Crockett, "I have not been harmed a bit: I've only had a good squeezing, but, I'm gradually getting my breath back again. Howsumever, I've been hugged before, and I've no doubt such a good-looking gal as you have been hugged, too. If I hadn't a blue-eyed little wife, down in Tennessee, I'd be tempted to play the bear to you."

"Oh! how can you jest at such a terrible time?" said the girl, her face blanched with terror.

"I know I ought to be ashamed of myself," said Crockett, as he looked down and realized what a plight he was in, "but it was always a weakness of mine to be joking when I hadn't oughter. If I ain't too impertinent, may I ax your name?"

"Katrina Duncan."

"Where is your father and mother?"

"I have none."

"What! you don't live here all alone?"

"Oh, no! I live with my uncle and aunt."

"Where might they be just now?"

"My aunt has gone to the village."

"That is a dozen miles away."

"The creek runs near the house, and she used the canoe. She can easily get back by nightfall."

"And your uncle—I haven't seen any thing of him."

"He is in the woods at work."

A sudden suspicion entered the head of Crockett.

"What is his name?"

"Bungslager."

"Ah! I see'd him in the woods—the jolliest Dutchman I ever sot eyes on. When do you expect—"

"Doonder and blitzen!"

Turning their heads, the two saw the very man of whom they were speaking, standing in the door. Short, fat, sturdy, with his round, moon-like face lit up by a pair of round eyes that were the embodiment of wonder and amazement.

"What dis mean, eh? Vot hash somepody peen doin', eh?"

"You have visitors, uncle."

"Yaw, as I sees, but when my visitor brings von pig pear mit him, I vish he leaf him inside de out doors."

"He didn't bring him, uncle; the bear came himself, and this gentleman rushed in to prevent him from killing me."

"Oh, yaw, and got killed himself. I ish glad to see you," said Hans, advancing and offering his hand; "dis ish your gun vat I picks up."

"It looks like the critter," said Colonel Crockett, advancing and taking his weapon. "I see'd I couldn't make no use of it, so I dropped it and sailed in with my Bowie, and ef it hadn't been fur Katrina here, it would have been the last of old Davy Crockett."

Hans Bungslager stopped and looked at the hunter with a curious expression.

"What your name ish?"

"Colonel Davy Crockett."

"From Tennessee?"

"Exactly."

The Dutchman burst into a laugh that nearly shook him to pieces.

"You ish dat pig fool, eh, dat went to Congress and didn't know noffin. I heerds 'pout you, and dinks you de piggest fool as never vas."

This was not very complimentary to Crockett, but the good nature of Hans Bungslager was irresistible, and he laughed to see him laugh.

Katrina was somewhat embarrassed, and thought it her duty to apologize for the rudeness of her uncle.

"He doesn't mean any thing," said she, turning toward the hunter; "it's a way he has. He got some papers that told about you in Congress, and he was so pleased that he staid home two or three days, and did nothing but sit in his chair and laugh."

"He's a lucky dog to be able to laugh so much," replied Crockett, with a serious air. "I have done a good deal of laughing in my time, but I reckon I've felt like crying as many times. Howsumever, I s'pose you want to get this carcass out the room."

Katrina replied that such was her wish, and Crockett and his host laid hold and managed to drag the huge creature outside the door. He was pulled some distance away, when the hunter, taking his Bowie in his hand, ran his finger along the edge.

"Go way with yer buffalo-steaks and venison, when I can git b'ar meat," said he, as he began operating upon it. "I'm going to stay to supper with you. I s'pose you've eat b'ar-steak?"

"Oh, yaw!" replied Hans; "I eats him once."

"How did you like him?"

"A Mexican—one greaser, gif him me to p'ison me; ef I had eat but lettle I would died; but I eat so much dat I spit him up ag'in."

"Get out! wait till I cook ye a hunk of it; you'll like it better than any sourkrout you ever saw."

Bungslager shook himself with laughter at the thought of his finding any thing in the way of food that could please his palate better than that savory article; but he stood by and watched Crockett, as he handled his knife with a skill that was really admirable.

The bear was in prime condition, and, after laying his shaggy hide back, the hunter cut out several slices that looked quite tempting, and which he asserted would tickle the tongue of any one, when properly cooked and placed upon the table.

The hide was carefully taken from the entire body, and then the carcass was rolled into the creek to float away, as being of no further use, while Crockett carefully washed the stains from his own person. Then bearing the hide over his arm, and the clean-looking meat, the two returned to the cabin.

During their absence, Katrina had improved the time to the utmost. The furniture, except where irreparably injured, had been placed to rights, the floor scrubbed up, and the fire kindled, and every preparation made for preparing a meal.

Looking at the bright, cheerful room, one could scarcely believe that a few minutes before it had been the scene of such a frightful contest as I have described.

When Crockett explained his wishes, the really charming, rosy-cheeked girl yielded her place to him at the fire, and he commenced the preparation of his bear-steaks. The savory odor soon filled the room, and placing some fresh butter and snowy bread upon the table, the three sat down to their meal.

But they were doomed to an interruption. The first mouthful was not yet tasted, when through the open door the figure of a young man was seen approaching, walking with a rapid stride across the clearing.

As he came nearer, it was easy to see from his blanched face and excited manner, that he was the bearer of some important and alarming tidings.

The individual who was seen hastening across the clearing, showed in his actions that he was an acquaintance of Bungslager and his niece.

"Well, Sebastian, what is it?" asked the latter, while the quick flush that overspread her face told Colonel Crockett at once what relation existed between them. Even in that moment of excitement the young man had time to cast one admiring glance upon the maiden.

"I've bad news! the worst news!"

All turned away from the table and looked expectantly toward him.

"What is it?"

"Three runners reached Brownston, a couple of hours ago, with the news that a big war-party of Comanches are approaching!"

"Ish dat all?" exclaimed Hans, with a sigh. "I dinks my cow has tumbled over a log, and hurts herself."

"But they will be there by to-night."

"Does my frow know it?"

"Yes; she besought me to hurry to you, and urge you to come at once, without a moment's delay. As soon as I learned it, I prepared to come, although several urged me against it, as they thought I would be intercepted before I could get back; but I have made all haste."

"From what p'int are they coming?" asked Crockett, who had the sense to perceive that this was a serious peril that threatened the Dutchman and his niece.

"From the north-east," replied Sebastian, turning toward Crockett, who had risen to his feet.

"How do you know that they intend attacking the village?"

The young man looked at the hunter a moment without replying.

"I suppose you are a stranger in these parts, for if you wasn't, you would know that Brownston has been attacked several times before, although never by such a large force as now threatens it. A good many of our men are off in the Texan war, and a good many more are going; but, we've had so many of these raids by the Comanches, that we've got used to them. We're better prepared than we used to be."

"Do you think the village is in danger itself?"

"No," was the prompt reply. "As we have been warned, I do not see as there is any danger at all."

"Then if we can get there, we shall be safe?"

"Undoubtedly."

"It is about a dozen miles away," added Crockett, in a voice which showed he was considerably relieved; "it ain't likely that the red-skins will be there before night."

"No; we do not fear for Brownston itself, now that we have been notified, but it is the outlying houses, that are in such danger, and quite a number of the folks have gone out to warn them."

"Then let's set down and make a meal on b'ar-steaks, and all go to the village together," setting the example, by taking his place at the table again.

The coolness with which this was uttered had a most reassuring effect upon the others. Sebastian, (as the young Texan was called,) was a volunteer in the war of independence of the Lone Star State, and was home in his native village of Brownston for a short time to see his friends, when this alarm reached his ears.

Knowing full well the ferocious character of the Comanches, and that in their wars, they made no discrimination between Mexican, Texan or American, the tidings filled him with the gravest alarm, concerning the beautiful Katrina and her uncle.

He was glad to find a guest there whose appearance showed him to be a man of knowledge, skill and daring, and who could not fail to prove a most valuable auxiliary in escaping the peril which had descended so suddenly upon them. He advanced and offered his hand.

"I am Sebastian Carsfield, a Texan, fighting against Santa Anna. I am glad to make your acquaintance."

"And I am on my way to the Alamo," replied Crockett, warmly shaking his hand.

"Then we are brothers: I join you at the meal."

"I dinks you ain't so much hungry as I vas," said Hans, who was quite impatient at the delay, and who attacked the viands with renewed appetite. Katrina was so flustered by the exciting news and the presence of her lover, that she became quite thoughtful and ate very little.

Crockett seemed to have forgotten entirely that such a thing as a hostile force was threatening them, and joked and jested in his usual manner. He related many of his adventures in Tennessee, in hunting bears, and some incidents of his eventful career in Congress, and his memorable tour through the northern States.

In this way the afternoon wore rapidly away, the dinner was lengthened, and by the time that the party rose from the table, the latter part of the day was half gone.

As the "frow" of Bungslager had gone to the village of Brownston in the canoe, there was no means of making the journey by water, so it was arranged that the dozen intervening miles should be made overland. Hans owned a sturdy horse, not very fleet, but tough and enduring, upon which he proposed to load every thing necessary, while he and Katrina walked.