The Yankee who had hitherto acted as spokesman, and who seemed to be in some way or other the chief of the party, was a man apparently near sixty years of age, upwards of six feet high, thin in person, but with such bone and muscle as indicated great strength in the possessor.  His features were keen and sharp; his eye like a falcon’s; his bearing and manners bespoke an exalted opinion of himself, and (at least as far as we were concerned) a tolerable degree of contempt for others.  His dress consisted of a jacket of skins, secured round the waist by a girdle, in which was stuck a long knife; leather breeches, a straw hat without a brim, and mocassins.  His companion was similarly accoutred.

“Where is Martin?” cried Carleton.

“Do you mean the Acadian lad who brought us to you?”

“The same.”

The Yankee pointed towards the smoke.  “Yonder, no doubt, with his countrymen; but I reckon their infernal hunt is over.  I hear no more shots.”

“Then we will go to him.  But where are our horses?”

“I’ve a notion,” said one of the younger men, “the stranger don’t rightly know what he wants.  Your horses are grazing half a mile off.  You would not have had us make the poor beasts swim through the creek tied to the stern of the boat?  ’Lijah is with them.”

“And what will he do with them?”

“Joel is going back with the boat, and when the fire is out he will bring them round,” said the elder Yankee.  “You don’t suppose—?” added he——­He left the sentence unfinished, but a smile of scornful meaning flitted over his features.

I looked at Carleton.  He nodded.  “We will go with you,” said I, “and trust entirely to your guidance.”

“You do well,” was the brief reply.  “Joel,” added he, turning to one of the young men, “where are the torches?  We shall want them?”

“Torches!” exclaimed I.

The Yankee gave me a look, as much as to say—­You must meddle with every thing.  “Yes,” replied he; “and, if you had ten lives, it would be as much as they are all worth to enter this swamp without torches.”  So saying, he struck fire, and selecting a couple of pine splinters from several lying in the boat, he lighted them, doing every thing with such extraordinary deliberation, and so oddly, that in spite of our unpleasant situation we could scarce help laughing.  Meantime the boat pushed off with two men in it, leaving Carleton, myself, the old man, and another American, standing at the edge of the swamp.

“Follow me, step by step, and as if you were treading on eggs,” said our leader; “and you, Jonathan, have an eye to the strangers, and don’t wait till they are up to their necks in the mud to pick them out of it.”

We did not feel much comforted by this speech; but, mustering all our courage, we strode on after our plain-spoken guide.