404 'ihe Wreck, 



faint, as I knew that something dreadful had occurred. " What is 

 it. Jack ?" at last asked one of the soberest of the party, going up 

 to him. ''■ I've killed poor George !" was the answer, and he sank 

 down upon a bench, the very picture of misery and despair. 

 "Where's the body?" I directly asked. "On your bed in the 

 tent," was the reply. We could make nothing more out of himj 

 so jumping on his horse, which stood outside, I galloped back to 

 the tent, about half-a-mile distant, to see what really had 

 happened. 



Had I needed proof that something dreadful had taken place, 

 the melancholy looks of our poor old bulldog, who was chained at 

 the entrance of the tent, would have furnished it. In general, 

 when I came home, I had the greatest difficulty in getting into the 

 tent, for the old fellow was so glad to see me, and always testified 

 his joy by the most uncouth antics and caresses. Now, however, 

 the case was different. He uttered no bark of welcome as I rode 

 up, but sat half in and half out of the tent, every now and then 

 looking in with a mournfulness of countenance that was almost 

 reproachful. The poor dog had been neglected during the last 

 week, and now his sad looks seemed to say, as plainly as words 

 could speak, "Come in and see the end of it." My heart fairly 

 misgave me, and I would have given worlds to turn back and avoid 

 the ghastly object which I knew lay awaiting me in the tent. 

 There was, however, nothing for it but to go in 3 and pushing by 

 the old dog, who followed me as far as his chain would allow, I 

 went up to the bed, and if I was prepared for a dreadful sight, that 

 which then met my eyes was far more horrid than anything I had 

 anticipated. The man was not dead, but lay on his back, his head 

 in a pool of blood. His glassy eyes intently fixed on me as I 

 entered, blood and froth bubbling up between the lips of his half- 

 opened mouth, as with both hands he convulsively clutched the 

 opossum rug which covered my bed. His forehead appeared to be 

 literally split open, and at the first glance it seemed as if I could 

 see right into his head. I raised him a little, and taking off my 



