Night set in; the fire had burnt low; Czar lay close to me, and I threw myself over his neck, patting him for his pluck and fidelity: he was very tired, and frequently gave a sigh, nor did he stir the whole night through. I remained awake till near morning, and although I dozed now and then, I was soon aroused by the hoot of an owl, the yell of a wolf, or the mournful cry of a panther, and I then listened to the sound of every falling leaf and every leaping squirrel. The night was cool too, the ground under me rather damp, and the dew very heavy, so that I really awaited daylight with longing. Czar, however, would not get up, and I let him lie, for I knew that he needed rest, and I might very possibly be obliged to trust to his powers during the day. I had drunk a cup of coffee, and eaten a slice of venison by the time my faithful comrade rose. I led him down to the water, and saw a number of turkeys taking their morning draught at the river side, but dared not fire for fear of betraying myself. It was about ten o'clock when I started down the stream again to find a convenient ford. The forest grew thinner, the shores flatter, and I soon found a deeply-trampled buffalo path which conveyed me without difficulty across the river, for though it was very wide it was quite shallow. Within half an hour I was again on the same prairie where Czar had saved me yesterday, and where the poor botanist had probably met his fate. I cautiously examined the whole plain with my glass, and could not see anything except a few herds of buffalo, and a number of deer grazing carelessly among them. I rode up the forest side to the path, where I found my previous trail, which was crossed by later hoofmarks, and then proceeded cautiously in the direction of the spot where I had left my companion. While still a long way off, I saw the fearful sight before me. The sun lit up his bloody corpse stretched out on the grass. I rode up to him, and found that he was lying on his back, without his scalp, and covered all over with lance and arrow wounds. None of his clothing had been left him; the only things I found were my destroyed pistols and double-barrelled gun, from which I removed the locks; even the blotting-paper had been taken, though for what purpose was a mystery. I would have gladly dragged the body to the wood and buried it, but the distance was too great to do so without help. I therefore bade him a silent farewell, and turned my horse to the ford where I had crossed the river that morning. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VII. A LONELY RIDE.