"What do you think of those animals?" asked the captain. "They are both splendid; above all, the black one--a true horse of the prairies--a mustang." "You seem to know all about it." "I have seen them often enough," replied the young man; "the owner of this one should be proud." "It is yours," said Durand. "What do you mean?" "I bought it for you," was the simple reply. "Pierre! Pierre! I repeat, you are ruined." "Hush; I may as well add that under the saddles I have placed double pockets, which contain many things I have forgotten." "But there are two horses," he cried. "One for you and one for myself. At all events, I must see you fairly on your way." Oliver made no reply, but turned away to dress in order to hide his emotion. When he was in full costume his friend burst out laughing, and told him he looked like a Calabrian bandit. "And now which way do we go?" asked the captain. "Straight forward," replied Oliver. "Yes," cried the captain, "just so, as you are going round the world." In two hours, after a hearty and warm shake of the hand, they parted. They were too deeply moved to speak. CHAPTER II. SAMUEL DICKSON GIVES ADVICE TO HIS BROTHER. On the same day on which the _Patriot_ anchored in the Bay of Massachusetts an interesting event took place between seven and eight in the morning in a pretty village named Northampton, at no great distance from Boston. Everybody was excited. A crowd of men, women, and children pressed around a number of waggons, each drawn by six horses. They stood in front of a brick house, the only inn of the village. Four magnificent saddle horses, with very handsome harness, were held by a young intelligent-looking Negro, who at the same time smoked a short pipe. The crowd was very excited, but very decorous and quiet--as a New England crowd always is--waiting simply for an explanation. Suddenly the sharp trot of a horse was heard at the entrance of the street. This served to create a new sensation in the crowd. "Samuel Dickson!" cried the people; "At last he has come. Now he will make them listen to reason." The new arrival was a man of middle age, with a pleasant countenance, delicate and intelligent features, clothed in the dress of a rich farmer, and in those parts was looked up to as a most important individual. He made his way carefully through the crowd, bowing on either hand, and rather puzzled at the ovation he was receiving. "Ah! Ah! That is you, massa," said a Negro, with a chuckle, as he approached the inn door. "Sandy, is that you? Then I suppose the others are inside," he remarked, as he dismounted and handed him the bridle. "Yes, Massa Samuel, dem all dere." "I am glad of it," he replied, "for I have come a long way to see them. Look after my horse, he is rather fresh." Then, bowing once more to the crowd, Samuel Dickson entered the inn, closing the door behind him.