BORDER LIFE IN THE WEST. 229 



murder. It never tires : watchful always, it trails despair to 

 death : confessedly a coward, it shrinks before the open eye 

 of will, but ever follows, follows, follows ! whither ? until 

 the weary stagger, and can no longer strive then they be- 

 come brave, then they tear his bones with gnashings, and toss 

 upward open, brainless, eyeless skulls, in the exultings of a 

 bloody satiety ! 



I now surveyed the whole ground carefully, so far as the 

 imperfect light would permit, as I followed these men back 

 to the cabin, thinking how to get rid of the whole set as soon 

 as possible. I marched them in before me ; kept a close ac- 

 count of their numbers, and had a blazing fire immediately 

 lit. I had no idea of trusting to twilight with such comrades ! 

 Everything now seemed to promise quiet for the time. 



The men became, or pretended to become, sleepy at once, 

 when we got back to the cabin our red-haired host in spe- 

 cial, who seemed suddenly overtaken in hot haste by the 

 pursuing Morpheus threw himself across the dirty platform 

 that he called a bed, which stood in the corner, mounted on 

 forked posts, and covered with skins and greasy blankets, 

 and forthwith commenced snoring away most sonorously. 

 He was joined by another of the fellows, who floundered 

 down by his side, while the others began to arrange them- 

 selves, some with their heads upon the coveted boxes, and 

 others upon carpet-bags, &c. 



My benevolent-looking friend with the black brows 

 stretched himself on the floor across the hearth, with his 

 back to the fire, while poor I was content with seating my- 

 self upon a trunk just underneath the port-hole. I saw what 

 must be the object of this manoeuvre. By pretending to be 

 asleep themselves, they hoped to throw us off our guard, 

 calculating that towards day-break we might be come wearied 

 out, and sink into sleep too ; but I had determined not to be 

 cajoled, and kept wary watch upon them through the corner 

 of my apparently closed eyes. I felt well assured that my 

 astute friend of the nine-inch barrels was doing the same 



