in seeming meditation, then turning from the master to his unreluctant
steed, he threw himself upon his back, and was quickly out of sight. He
soon returned, bringing with him a wagon and team, such as all farmers
possess in that region, and lifting the inanimate form into the rude
vehicle with a tender caution that indicated a true humanity, walking
slowly beside the horses, and carefully avoiding all such obstructions
in the road, as by disordering the motion would have given pain to the
sufferer, he carried him safely, and after the delay of a few hours,
into the frontier, and then almost unknown, village of Chestatee.

It was well for the youth that he had fallen into such hands. There were
few persons in that part of the world like Mark Forrester. A better
heart, or more honorable spirit, lived not; and in spite of an erring
and neglected education--of evil associations, and sometimes evil
pursuits--he was still a worthy specimen of manhood. We may as well here
describe him, as he appears to us; for at this period the youth was
still insensible--unconscious of his deliverance as he was of his
deliverer.

Mark Forrester was a stout, strongly-built, yet active person, some six
feet in height, square and broad-shouldered--exhibiting an outline,
wanting, perhaps, in some of the more rounded graces of form, yet at the
same time far from symmetrical deficiency. There was, also, not a little
of ease and agility, together with a rude gracefulness in his action,
the result equally of the well-combined organization of his animal man
and of the hardy habits of his woodland life. His appearance was
youthful, and the passing glance would perhaps have rated him at little
more than six or seven-and-twenty. His broad, full chest, heaving
strongly with a consciousness of might--together with the generally
athletic muscularity of his whole person--indicated correctly the