It should be added regarding Alden and Jethro that, having spent their lives on what might be called the frontier, they had used every privilege which came within their reach. Both were fine horsemen, and Alden had no superior among the young men in the neighborhood as a hunter and marksman. The two spent every hour they could command in roaming through the forests, some of which were miles distant. While the colored youth did well when all the circumstances are remembered, he was by no means the equal of his young master in courage or in skill with the rifle. Alden, accompanied by Jethro, walked into St. Joe and joined the spectators who were waiting to see Carlyle start on his ride of a hundred and thirty miles westward. They had known of his intention for several days. The enterprise bore so close a relation to their own plans that they felt peculiar interest in it. “Gorry! ain’t it queer, Al?” asked his companion, after the gaily bedecked rider had dashed by on his way to the ferry. “Isn’t what queer?” inquired his companion, in turn. “Why, dat Alec Carlyle am gwine ober de same road dat we’re gwine to go ober in a day or two.” “There’s nothing strange in that.” “Why couldn’t we fetched down our war steeds and gone wid him?” “He wouldn’t allow it; we should be too much in his way, and we couldn’t keep up with him for more than a few miles.” “Dunno ’bout dat; Jilk and Firebug don’t take de dust ob any other animiles.” Jethro thus alluded to the horse owned by himself and the mare which was the favorite of his master. “That may be so, Jeth, but we expect to ride our horses all the way to California, while Alec will change his every ten or twelve miles.” “Can’t we do de same?” “How?” “Why, ebery ten miles I’ll get into de saddle ob Firebug, and you kin get into de saddle ob Jilk: _dat_ will be changing hosses.” Alden looked at Jethro. The colored lad tried to keep a sober face, but had to duck his head and chuckle. He might be slow-witted, but he was not in earnest in making his proposition. Alden made a feint of chastising the African, who caught hold of his flapping hat to keep it on and dived three or four paces away. Just then several cheers came from the ferry, and Alden withdrew his attention from his companion. Thus he stood, his back toward the negro, when it suddenly seemed to him that a runaway horse had collided with his shoulder. The blow knocked Alden toward the middle of the street, his hat falling, as he strove desperately to keep his feet and barely succeeded. The next instant, as he replaced his hat, he turned hurriedly around to learn the cause of the shock. A youth about his own age and size had violently bumped him. Alden was quick tempered and flamed with anger. The young man, whom he had never seen before, said something, but in his blind rage our friend did not catch the words.