And so, thought I to myself, these are the associates who, a moment back, I dreamed were sharing my thoughts, and whose hearts, I fancied, were overflowing with softest emotions. One, indeed, had not pronounced, and to him I turned in hope. He was a dark-eyed, sharp-featured Breton. "And you, Claude," said I, "what are your thoughts on this matter?" "I leave all in the hands of my captain," said he, saluting in military fashion; "but if there be a pillage, I claim the woman that is sitting on the rock yonder, with a yellow girdle round her, as mine." I turned away in utter disappointment. The robber-spirit was the only one I had evoked, and I grew sick at heart to think of it. How is it that, in certain moods of mind, the vices we are conversant with assume a double coarseness, and that we feel repugnance to what daily habit had seemed to have inured us? "Is it to be, or not?" growled the Spaniard, who, having tightened his girths and examined the lock of his rifle, now stood in somewhat patient anxiety. "Since when have we become banditti," said I, insultingly, "that we are to attack and pillage helpless women and children? Are these the lessons Halkett has taught us? Back to the camp. Let us have no more of such counsels." "We meet nothing but scoffs and jibes when we return empty-handed," muttered the Spaniard. "It is seldom such an opportunity offers of a heavy booty." "Right-about," said I, imperiously, not caring to risk my ascendency by debating the question further. They obeyed without a word; but it was easy to see that the spirit of mutiny was but sleeping. For some miles of the way a dreary silence pervaded the party. I tried all in my power to bring back our old good understanding, and erase the memory of the late altercation; but even my friend Narvasque held aloof, and seemed to side with the others. I was vexed and irritated to a degree the amount of the incident was far from warranting; nor was the fact that we were returning without any success without its influence. Moody and sad, I rode along at their head, not making any further effort to renew their confidence, when suddenly a spotted buck started from the shelter of a prairie roll, and took his way across the plain. To unsling my rifle and fire at him was the work of half a minute. My shot missed; and I heard, or thought I heard, a burst of contemptuous laughter behind me. Without turning my head, I spurred my horse to a sharp gallop, and proceeded to reload my rifle as I went. The buck had, however, got a "long start" of me; and although my mustang had both speed and endurance, I soon saw that the chase would prove unrewarding; and, after a hot pursuit of half a mile, I pulled up and wheeled about. Where was my party? Not a trace of them was to be seen. I rode up a little slope of the prairie, and then, at a great way off, I could descry their figures as with furious speed they were hastening back in the direction of the Camanche village.