The hunter was gone!

CHAPTER II.

THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT.

  The echoing rock, the rushing flood,
  The cataract’s swell, the moaning wood;
  The undefined and mingled hums—­
  Voice of the desert never dumb! 
  All these have left within this heart
  A feeling tongue can ne’er impart;
  A wildered and unearthly flame,
  A something that’s without a name.—­ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

With extreme difficulty, Teddy made his way out of the ravine into which purposely he had been led by the hunter.  He was full of aches and pains when he attempted to walk, and more than once was compelled to halt to ease his bruised limbs.

As he painfully made his way back to the camp he did a vast deal of cogitation.  When in extreme pain of body, produced by a mishap intentionally conceived by another, it is but following the natural law of cause and effect to feel a certain degree of exasperation toward the evil-doer; and, as the Irishman at every step experienced a sharp twinge that ofttimes made him cry out, his ejaculations were neither conceived in charity nor uttered in good-will toward all men.  Still, he pondered deeply upon what the hunter had said, and was perplexed to know what could possibly be its meaning.

The simple nature of the Irishman was unable to fathom the mystery.  He could not have believed even had Harvey Richter himself confessed to having perpetrated a crime or a wrong, that the minister had been guilty of anything sufficient to give cause of enmity.  The strange hunter whom they had unexpectedly encountered several times, must be some crack-brained adventurer, the victim of a fancied wrong, who, most likely, had mistaken Harvey Richter for another person.

What could be the object in firing at the missionary, yet taking pains that no harm should be inflicted?  That was another impenetrable mystery; but, let it be comprehensible or not, the wrathful servitor inwardly vowed that, if the man crossed the path of himself or his master again, and the opportunity offered, he should shoot him down as he would a wild animal.

In the midst of his absorbing reverie, Teddy suddenly paused and looked around him.  He was lost.  Shrewd enough to understand that to attempt to extricate himself would only lead into a greater entanglement, from which it might not be possible to escape at all, he wisely concluded to remain where he was until daylight.  Gathering a few twigs and leaves, with his well-stored “punk-box” he soon started a small fire, by the light of which he collected a sufficient quantity of fuel to last until morning.

Few scenes of nature are more impressive than a forest at night.  That low deep roar, born of silence itself—­the sad sighing of the wind—­the tall, column-like trunks, resembling huge sentinels keeping guard over the mysteries of ages—­the silent sea of foliage overhead, that seems to shut in a world of its own—­all have an influence, peculiar, irresistible and sublime.