Read The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis Page 5

  II

  THE WILDERNESS

  A journey of a thousand miles through the unbroken wilderness--the homeof the Choctaw and Chickasaw Indian Nations and all on his own beautifulpony! It was no time for tears.

  The Boy's soul leaped for joy.

  The party was a delightful one. Major Hinds, a veteran of GeneralJackson's campaign, the commander of the famous Mississippi Dragoons atthe battle of New Orleans, was the leader, accompanied by his wife, hersister and niece, and best of all a boy his own age, the Major's littleson Howell.

  Howell also was riding a pony. He was a nice enough pony, of course, asponies went, but couldn't compare with his own. He made up his mind torace the first chance they got, and show those pretty white heels tohis rival. He was just dying to tell him how fast they could beat theground--but he'd wait and surprise the party.

  A negro maid accompanied the ladies and a stalwart black man rode apack-mule laden with tents, blankets and a cooking outfit. They stoppedat houses when one could be reached at nightfall. If not, they camped inthe woods beneath the towering trees. There was no need of the tentsunless it rained. So dense was the foliage that only here and there abright star peeped through, or a moonbeam shot its silvery thread to theground. The Indians were all friendly. It was the boast of the Choctawsthat no man of their breed had ever shed the blood of a white man.

  For days they followed the course of the majestic river rolling itsyellow flood to the sea and watched the lazy flat and keel boats driftslowly down to New Orleans bearing the wealth of the new Western World.The men who had manned these rude craft were slowly tramping on footback to their homes in the North. Their boats could not stem the tidefor the return trip. Every day they passed these weary walkers. The Boywas sorry they couldn't ride. His pony's step was so firm and quick andstrong.

  He raced with Howell the first day and beat him so far there was no funin it. He never challenged his rival again. He was the guest of MajorHinds on this trip. It would be rude. But he slipped out in the darkthat night, and hugged his pony:

  "You're the finest horse that ever was!" he whispered.

  "Of course I am!" the pony laughed.

  "I love you--"

  "And I love you," was the quick response as the warm nose touched hischeek.

  In the second week, they reached the first stand, "Folsoms'," on theborder of the Choctaw Nation. These stands were log cabins occupied bysquaw men--whites who had married Indian women. They must pass threemore of these stands the Major said--the "Leflores," known as the firstand second French camps, and the one at the crossing of the TennesseeRiver, which had the unusual distinction of being kept by a half-breedChickasaw Indian.

  Here, weary, footsore travelers stopped to rest and refreshthemselves--and many dropped and died miles from those they loved. Thelittle graveyard with its rude, wooden-marked mounds the Boy saw with adull ache in his heart.

  And then the first bitter pang of homesickness came. He wondered if hissweet mother were well. He wondered what she said when they told her hehad gone. He knew she had cried. What if she were dead and he couldnever see her again? He sat down on a log, buried his face in his handsand tried to cry the ache out of his heart. He felt that he must turnback or die. But it wouldn't do. He had promised his Big Brother. Herose, brushed the tears away, fed and watered his pony and tenderlyrubbed down every inch of his beautiful black skin. He forgot the achein his new-found love and the strength which had come into his boy'ssoul from the sense of kinship with Nature which this beautiful dumbfour-footed friend had brought him. No man could be friendless orforsaken who possessed the love of a horse. His horse knew and lovedhim. He said it in a hundred ways. His wide, deep, lustrous eyes,shining with intelligence, had told him! So had the touch of his bigwarm mouth in many a friendly pony kiss. His pony could laugh, too. Hehad seen the smiles flicker about his mouth and eyes as he pretended tobite his bare legs. How could any human being be cruel or mean to ahorse! His pony had given him new courage and conscious power. He wasthe master of Nature now when they flew along the trail through the deepwoods. His horse had given him wings.

  He looked up into the star-sown sky, and promised God to be kind andgentle to all the dumb world for the love of the beautiful friend He hadgiven.