miraculous adventures to be enjoyed in the western wilderness, and the
gold which his master often showered upon him with a reckless hand.
Joe's forefathers were from the Isle of Erin, and although he had lost
the brogue, he still retained some of their superstitions.

The wind continued to blow, the wolves howled, the lightning flashed,
and the thunder rolled. Ere long the little black pony snorted aloud
and paused abruptly.

"What ails you, Pete?" said Joe from his lofty position on the steed,
addressing his favourite little pet. "Get along," he continued,
striking the animal gently with his whip. But Pete was as immovable
and unconscious of the lash as would have been a stone. And the steed
seemed likewise to be infected with the pony's stubbornness, after the
wagon was brought to a pause.

"Why have you stopped, Joe?" inquired Glen.

"I don't hardly know, sir; but the stupid horses won't budge an inch
farther!"

"Very well; we can remain here till morning. Take the harness off, and
give them the corn in the box; we can sleep in the wagon till
daylight."

"But we have no food for ourselves, sir; and I'm vastly hungry. It
can't be much farther to the ferry," continued Joe, vexed at the
conduct of the horses.

"Very well; do as you like; drive on, if you desire to do so," said