“Well, as I said, we were bogged; patience was necessary, laments were of no use, so we dined with as much appetite as if nothing had happened, and some of the regular ‘boys’ took to ‘Yooka,’ to kill the time.  They were regular hands, to be sure, but I was myself trump No. 1.  Pity we have no cards with us; it would be amusing to be the first man introducing that game into the western prairies.  Well, I looked on, and by-and-bye, I got tired of being merely a spectator.  My nose itched, my fingers too.  I twisted my five-dollar bill in all senses, till a sharp took me for a flat, and he proposed kindly to pluck me out-and-out.  I plucked him in less than no time, winning eighty dollars at a sitting; and when we left off for tea, I felt that I had acquired consequence, and even merit, for money gives both.  During the night I was so successful, that when I retired to my berth I found myself the owner of four hundred and fifty dollars, a gold watch, a gold pin, and a silver ’bacco-box.  Everything is useful in this world, even getting aground.  Now, I never repine at anything.

“The next day another steam-boat passed, and picked us up.  It was one of those light crafts which speculate upon misfortune; they hunt after stranded boats, as a wolf after wounded deer—­they take off the passengers, and charge what they please.  From Cincinnati to St. Louis the fare was ten dollars, and the unconscious wreck-seeker of a captain charged us twenty-five dollars each for the remainder of the trip—­one day’s journey.  However, I did not care.

“An Arkansas man, who had no more money, sold me, for fifteen dollars, his wallet, a fine great-coat, two clean shirts, and a hat; from another I purchased a pair of bran-new, Boston-made, elegant black breeches, so that when I landed at St. Louis I cut a regular figure, went to Planter’s Hotel, and in the course of a week made a good round sum by three lectures upon the vanities of the world and the sin of desponding.  Well, to cut matters short—­by the bye, there must be something wrong stirring in the prairie; look at our horses, how uneasy they seem to be.  Don’t you hear anything?”

Our horses, indeed, were beginning to grow wild with excitement, and thinking that their instinct had told them that wolves were near, I tied them closer to where we bivouacked, and then applied my ears to the ground, to try and catch any sound.

“I hear no noise,” said I, “except the morning breeze passing through the withered grass.  Our horses have been smelling wolves, but the brutes will not approach our fire.”

The parson, who had a great faith in my “white Indian nature,” resumed the thread of his narrative:—­