Neither the plantation, the cattle, nor my companions, were visible, it is true; but this gave me no uneasiness.  I felt sure that I knew the direction in which I had come, and that the island I had just left was one which was visible from the house, while all around me were such numerous tracks of horses, that the possibility of my having lost my way never occurred to me, and I rode on quite unconcernedly.

After riding for about an hour, however, I began to find the time rather long.  I looked at my watch.  It was past one o’clock.  We had started at nine, and, allowing an hour and a half to have been spent in finding the cattle, I had passed nearly three hours in my wild and unsuccessful hunt.  I began to think that I must have got further from the plantation than I had as yet supposed.

It was towards the end of March, the day clear and warm, just like a May-day in the Southern States.  The sun was now shining brightly out, but the early part of the morning had been somewhat foggy; and, as I had only arrived at the plantation the day before, and had passed the whole afternoon and evening indoors, I had no opportunity of getting acquainted with the bearings of the house.  This reflection began to make me rather uneasy, particularly when I remembered the entreaties of the negro, and the loud exhortations Mr Neal addressed to me as I rode away.  I said to myself, however, that I could not be more than ten or fifteen miles from the plantation, that I should soon come in sight of the herds of cattle, and that then there would be no difficulty in finding my way.  But when I had ridden another hour without seeing the smallest sign either of man or beast, I got seriously uneasy.  In my impatience, I abused poor Neal for not sending somebody to find me.  His huntsman, I had heard, was gone to Anahuac, and would not be back for two or three days; but he might have sent a couple of his lazy negroes.  Or, if he had only fired a shot or two as a signal.  I stopped and listened, in hopes of hearing the crack of a rifle.  But the deepest stillness reigned around, scarcely the chirp of a bird was heard—­all nature seemed to be taking the siesta.  As far as the eye could reach was a waving sea of grass, here and there an island of trees, but not a trace of a human being.  At last I thought I had made a discovery.  The nearest clump of trees was undoubtedly the same which I had admired and pointed out to my companions soon after we had left the house.  It bore a fantastical resemblance to a snake coiled up and about to dart upon its prey.  About six or seven miles from the plantation we had passed it on our right hand, and if I now kept it upon my left, I could not fail to be going in a proper direction.  So said, so done.  I trotted on most perseveringly towards the point of the horizon where I felt certain the house must lie.  One hour passed, then a second, then a third; every now and then I stopped and listened, but nothing was audible, not a shot nor a shout.  But although