The Young Trailers

ians, Kain-tuck-ee. The wagons, a score or so in number, were covered with arched canvas, bleached by the rains, and

All gazed, keen with interest and curiosity, because this unknown land was to be their home, but none was more eager than Henry Ware, a strong boy of fifteen who stood in front of the wagons beside the guide, Tom Ross, a tall, lean man the color of well-t

is figure showed a certain litheness and power like that of the forest bred. His gaze was rapid, penetrating and inclusive, but never furtive. He seemed

e fourth wagon from the right, and his father stood beside it. Farther on in the same company were his uncles and aunts, and many of the old neighbors. All had come together. It was really the remova

ion; they had no terrors, for even their secrets lay open before him. He seemed to breathe a newer and keener air than that of the old land left behind, and his mind expanded with the

nry so much. He was eager for the forests and the great wilderness where his fancy had already gone before. He wanted to see deer and bears and buffaloes, trees bigger than any that grew in Maryland, and mountains and mighty rivers. But they left the settlements behind at last, and c

stened to the talk of the guide who taught the lesson that in the wilderness it was always important to see and to listen, a thing however that Henry already knew instinctively. He learned the usual sounds of the woods, and if there was any new noise he would see what made it. He stud

ar up, and to hear them crackle as they ate into the heart of the boughs. He liked to see their long red shadows fall across the leaves and grass, peopling the dark forest with fierce wild animals; he would feel all the cosier within the scarlet rim of the firelight. Then the men would tell stories, particularly Ross, the guide, who had wandered much and far in Kentucky. He said that it was a beautiful land. He spoke of the noble forests of beech and oak and hickory and maple, the dense canebrake, the many ri

ame into the forests of Kentucky, whither they were going, but he thrilled rather than shivered at the though

himself up in the wagon, peeped out between the canvas cover and the wooden body. He saw a very black night in which the trees looked as thin and ghostly as shadows, and smoldering f

ey of Kentucky; their future home. The long journey was over. The men took off their hats and caps and raised a cheer, the women jo

r. It was Lucy Upton, two years younger than himself, slim and tall, dark-blue eyes lookin

ot afraid?

replied Henry Wa

n Kentucky. They say that th

trong. I do n

ce. She glanced covertly at him. He seemed to her strong a

kory and the maple reached gigantic proportions, and wherever the shade was not too dense the grass rose heavy and rank. Now and then they passed thickets of canebrake, and once, at the side of a stream, they came to a salt "lick." It w

ght: elk, deer, buffalo, wolves, and all the others, big and little, to get

to drink. The dark would have no terrors for him, nor would he need companionship. He knew what to do, he could stay in the bush noiseless and motionless for hours, and he would choose only the finest of the deer and

they heard the howling of wolves, and a strange, long scream, like the shriek of a woman, which the men said was the cry of

the immensity of the wilderness. He understood why the people in this caravan clung so closely to each other. They were simply a

questions of the guide about the country two days' journey farther on, which, Ross said, was so

lots of canebrake it won't be bad to clear up for farmin'.

es and smoked a while, in silence, before the blazing fires. Henry watched them and wished that he too was a man and could take part in these evening talks. He was excited by the knowledge that their journey was to end so soo

, slept before the flames. Only two remained awake and on guard. They sat

, in which they were to build their houses. He lifted the canvas again after a while and saw that the fires had sunk lower than ever. The two men were still sitting on the

and cried for water. Mr. Ware raised himself sleepily, but Henry a

mbed out of the wagon. He was in his bare feet, but like other pioneer boys

e pulling on their ropes. The two careless guards were either asleep or so near it that they took no notice of what was passing, and Henry, unwilling to call their attention for fear he might seem too forward, walked among the animals, but was still unable to find the cause of the trouble. He knew everyone by name and nature, an

er fell splashing back into the spring. But he stared steadily at the red points, which he now noticed were moving slightly from side to side, and presently he saw behind them the dim outlines of a long and large body. He knew that this must be a panther. T

rose, especially when he remembered a saying of Ross that it was the natural impulse of all wild animals to run from man. So he began to back away, and he heard behind him the horses trampling about in alarm. The lazy guards still dozed and all was quiet at

rd the panther, uttering a loud shout as he ran. The animal gave forth his woman's cry, this ti

e, and the two sleepy guards, seeking an excuse for themselves, laughed outright at the tale that Henry told. But Mr. Ware believed in the truth of his son's words, and the guide, who quickly examined the

one of our colts or a calf," said Ross, "an' no doubt the boy with his ready

ambition merely to drive away a panther, instead he had the h

the tender green of young spring. The cotton-tailed hares that he called rabbits ran across their path. Squirrels talked to one another in the tree tops, and defiantly threw the shells of last year's nuts at the passing travelers. Once they saw a stag bending down to drink at a brook, and when the forest king beh

home, and the little camp was full of the liveliest interest in the morrow, because it is a most eventful thing, when you are going to choose a place which you intend shall be your home all the rest of your days. So the men and women sat late around the fires and even boys of Henry's age wer

want a house," whispered Henry to the guide, "a

ees it's all very fine in summer, if it don't rain, but 'twould be just a least bit chilly in winter when the big snows come as they do sometimes more'n a foot deep. I'm a hunter myself, an' I've sle

t in himself the power to meet and overcom

. Henry was fully dressed, and saw the sun rise in a magnificent burst of red and gold over the valley that was to be their valley. The whole camp

id: "All they had to do was to tickle it with a hoe, and it laughed into a harvest." There was the proof of its strength in the grass and the trees. Never before had the travelers seen oaks and beeches of such girth or elms and hickories of such height. The gra

eir troubles and labors rolled away. Even the face of Mr. Ware who rarely yielded to enthusiasm

"There is our ho

, flinging aloft his

d descended into the valley, which in