The spring season was setting in, and the young mint had sprouted--a botanical fact with which my new acquaintances appeared to be familiar, as one and all of them ordered a mint julep. This beverage, in the mixing and drinking, occupied our time until the second scream of the gong summoned us to dinner. "Sit with us, Mr Haller," said Bent; "I am sorry we didn't know you sooner. You have been lonely." And so saying, he led the way into the dining-room, followed by his companions and myself. I need not describe a dinner at the "Planters'," with its venison steaks, its buffalo tongues, its prairie chickens, and its delicious frog fixings from the Illinois "bottom." No; I would not describe the dinner, and what followed I am afraid I could not. We sat until we had the table to ourselves. Then the cloth was removed, and we commenced smoking regalias and drinking madeira at twelve dollars a bottle! This was ordered in by someone, not in single bottles, but by the half-dozen. I remembered thus far well enough; and that, whenever I took up a wine-card, or a pencil, these articles were snatched out of my fingers. I remember listening to stories of wild adventures among the Pawnees, and the Comanches, and the Blackfeet, until I was filled with interest, and became enthusiastic about prairie life. Then someone asked me, would I not like to join them in "a trip"? Upon this I made a speech, and proposed to accompany my new acquaintances on their next expedition: and then Saint Vrain said I was just the man for their life; and this pleased me highly. Then someone sang a Spanish song, with a guitar, I think, and someone else danced an Indian war-dance; and then we all rose to our feet, and chorused the "Star-spangled Banner"; and I remember nothing else after this, until next morning, when I remember well that I awoke with a splitting headache. I had hardly time to reflect on my previous night's folly, when the door opened, and Saint Vrain, with half a dozen of my table companions, rushed into the room. They were followed by a waiter, who carried several large glasses topped with ice, and filled with a pale amber-coloured liquid. "A sherry cobbler, Mr Haller," cried one; "best thing in the world for you: drain it, my boy. It'll cool you in a squirrel's jump." I drank off the refreshing beverage as desired. "Now, my dear friend," said Saint Vrain, "you feel a hundred per cent, better! But, tell me, were you in earnest when you spoke of going with us across the plains? We start in a week; I shall be sorry to part with you so soon." "But I was in earnest. I am going with you, if you will only show me how I am to set about it." "Nothing easier: buy yourself a horse." "I have got one." "Then a few coarse articles of dress, a rifle, a pair of pistols, a--"