The laugh was quite on my side when I resumed my equipment and mounted, dry-shod, into my saddle.

It will be perceived that journeying in the woods is, in some degree, a deranger of ceremony and formality; that it necessarily restricts us somewhat in our conventionalities.  The only remedy is, to make ourselves amends by a double share when we return to the civilized walks of life.

By dint of much pulling, shouting, encouraging, and threatening, the horses at length dragged the carriage through the difficult pass, and our red friends were left to return to their village, with, doubtless, a very exaggerated and amusing account of all that they had seen and assisted in.

We had not forgotten our promise to Lieutenant Foster to put up a “guide-board” of some sort, for his accommodation in following us.  We therefore, upon several occasions, carried with us from the woods a few pieces, of three or four feet in length, which we planted at certain points, with a transverse stick through a cleft in the top, thus marking the direction he and his party were to take.

We therefore felt sure that, although a few days later, he would find our trail, and avail himself of the same assistance as we had, in getting through the difficulties of the way.

Our encamping-ground, this night, was to be not far distant from the Four Lakes.  We were greatly fatigued with the heat and exercise of the day, and most anxiously did we look out for the clumps of willows and alders which were to mark the spot where water would be found.  We felt hardly equal to pushing on quite to the bank of the nearest lake.  Indeed, it would have taken us too much off our direct course.

When we, at a late hour, came upon a spot fit for our purpose, we exchanged mutual congratulations that this was to be our last night upon the road.  The next day we should be at Winnebago!

Our journey had been most delightful—­a continued scene of exhilaration and enjoyment; for the various mishaps, although for the moment they had perplexed, yet, in the end, had but added to our amusement.  Still, with the inconstancy of human nature, we were pleased to exchange its excitement for the quiet repose of home.

Our next morning’s ride was of a more tranquil character than any that had preceded it; for at an early hour we entered upon what was known as the “Twenty-mile Prairie,”—­and I may be permitted to observe that the miles are wonderfully long on the prairies.  Our passage over this was, except the absence of the sand, like crossing the desert.  Mile after mile of unbroken expanse—­not a tree—­not a living object except ourselves.

The sun, as if to make himself amends for his two months’ seclusion, shone forth with redoubled brilliancy.  There is no such thing as carrying an umbrella on horseback, though those in the wagon were able to avail themselves of such a shelter.

Our mother’s energies had sustained her in the saddle until this day, but she was now fairly obliged to give in, and yield her place on little Brunet to sister Margaret.