In an open stretch of meadow he came upon a white horse and a mule grazing contentedly. The animals raised their heads in mute inquiry, and then resumed their feeding. David looked about for the owners, but seeing no one, came to the conclusion that these were waifs from some pack train, and might now be appropriated by any one who could catch them. It was a great temptation to try. Riding was certainly an improvement on walking; and if he could not do that without a bridle, he could at least lead the horse with a bit of rope and make him carry his pack. On second thought, however, he abandoned the idea. Perhaps the animals were not lost. The owners might be somewhere in the neighborhood. If this were the case, and he were seen leading the horse away, he might be accused of horse-stealing,--a very serious charge on the trail. It was better to let them alone, and he plodded on. A little later he caught sight of a black animal among the trees ahead, and it must be confessed that a lonely, creepy sensation ran up his back at that moment. He loosened the hatchet in its leather case as he walked, but soon saw that the beast was not a bear, but a large black dog which, having even more respect for him than he had felt for it, turned out of the trail and gave him a wide berth. A few minutes afterward he met two men with a small pack train, and concluded that the dog was theirs. The men nodded pleasantly as they passed; they were the only persons he saw on the trail that day. By mid-afternoon he found himself getting tired. A great many trees had fallen across the path, and the labor of stepping over them contributed materially to his fatigue. There were bogs, too, so cut up by the passage of horses and cattle that it was difficult for a pedestrian to cross without becoming stuck fast. Usually, however, a sapling had been cut down and laid over the ooze, and David crossed all but one of these rude bridges successfully. The one exception nearly cost him dear. He made a misstep, and his right foot slipped into the mud beside the log. The mud and water offered no support, and the sudden lurch having thrown the weight of his pack to that side, his foot sank deeper and deeper without reaching solid ground. By good fortune his other foot was still on the log, and, better still, there were stout bushes on the other side. These he grasped desperately as he sank, and by a violent effort restored his balance and drew himself back upon the log. In the early evening he waded Frying-Pan Creek and caught the first welcome glimpse of Pennock's Post. "Now," thought he, "I shall have a good night's rest in my own bunk,"--for he had brought no tent; so with a light heart in spite of his weariness, he turned toward the cabin.