Dick uttered a yell that would have done credit to the fiercest chief
of the Pawnees, and being unable to utter another word, he swung his
cap in the air and sprang like an arrow from a bow over the mighty
ocean of grass. The sun had just risen to send a flood of golden glory
over the scene, the horses were fresh, so the elder hunters, gladdened
by the beauty of all around them, and inspired by the irresistible
enthusiasm of their young companion, gave the reins to the horses and
flew after him. It was a glorious gallop, that first headlong dash
over the boundless prairie of the "far west."

The prairies have often been compared, most justly, to the ocean.
There is the same wide circle of space bounded on all sides by the
horizon; there is the same swell, or undulation, or succession of long
low unbroken waves that marks the ocean when it is calm; they are
canopied by the same pure sky, and swept by the same untrammelled
breezes. There are islands, too--clumps of trees and
willow-bushes--which rise out of this grassy ocean to break and
relieve its uniformity; and these vary in size and numbers as do the
isles of ocean, being numerous in some places, while in others they
are so scarce that the traveller does not meet one in a long day's
journey. Thousands of beautiful flowers decked the greensward, and
numbers of little birds hopped about among them.

"Now, lads," said Joe Blunt, reining up, "our troubles begin to-day."

"Our troubles?--our joys, you mean!" exclaimed Dick Varley.

"P'r'aps I don't mean nothin' o' the sort," retorted Joe. "Man wos
never intended to swaller his joys without a strong mixtur' o'
troubles. I s'pose he couldn't stand 'em pure. Ye see we've got to the