It was
evident from the man's dress, that he was not a native of that region;
and from the puzzled expression on his face, as he looked anxiously
about, it was clear that he had lost his way. Standing in the stirrups
he turned and glanced back over the bridle path along which he had
come, and then peered carefully through the trees to the right and
left; then with an impatient oath, he dropped to the saddle and sat
staring straight ahead at a lone pine upon the top of a high hill a
few miles away.
"There's the hill with the signal tree beyond Simpson's all right,"
he said, "but how in thunder am I to get there; this path don't go any
farther, that's sure," and from the distant mountain he turned his
gaze to the deep gulch that lay at his feet.
Suddenly he leaned forward with another exclamation. He had caught
sight of a log cabin in the bottom of the ravine, half hidden by the
bushes and low trees that grew upon the steep banks. Turning his horse,
he rode slowly up and down for some distance, searching for an easy
place to descend, coming back at last to the spot where he had first
halted. "It's no go, Salem," he said; "we've got to slide for it," and
dismounting, he took the bridle rein in his hand and began to pick his
way as best he could, down the steep incline, while his four-footed
companion reluctantly followed. After some twenty minutes of stumbling
and swearing on the part of the man, and slipping and groaning on the
part of the horse, they stood panting at the bottom.
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