The scene opens in the Far West. In the forest the evening’s gloomalready was settling, though here and there, through some narrow vista,a rich ray of sunlight poured its golden flood far into the shadowydepths. The place was lonely and drear, yet wild and grand. Approachingcivilization had driven out the red-man, while his place had not,as yet, been filled by the spreading white. Deep silence reigned,disturbed only by the myriad sounds of animal and insect life, calledforth by the rare beauties of the evening. The sights and sounds ofcivilization were not there; and yet, we should, perhaps, make a singleexception.

Stealing cautiously along, with a tread as light as that of a shade,was one of that famed and daring class, met nowhere save on the advanceof American settlements—the border scouts, who, born to danger andinuredto hardship, become, as a race, the very embodimentof bravery, endurance, strategy and recklessness. These are the rulingcharacteristics of the class, though as varied in individuals as arethe personalities of “citizens of the world.”

The person to whom we have referred was a worthy specimen of his class.Tall, erect and graceful in every motion, with eyes and ears from whichnot the slightest sign or sound could escape, David Barring, or “Davythe Scout,” as he was often called, was fitted, both by nature andeducation, for the rough life which he was called upon to lead. Thoughtaller than the average of men, his compact frame and symmetricalproportions served, in a great measure, to disguise his real height.

His dress was in keeping with his life and habits. Bearskin cap,deerskin leggins, and Indian moccasins, in addition to the ordinaryhunting suit, tended to enhance the wild character of his person.

There was little necessity for the extreme caution which David stillcontinued to exercise. It sprung more from habit and long practice thanfrom any present danger. That the scout was deeply agitated, mightreadily be gathered from the manner in which he mused, half aloud, ashe proceeded:

“Four years, since I’ve travelled through this place. But it’s badnews I bring ’em this time, so it is. Wouldn’t blame ’em if theydidn’t believe me, not a bit; but ’twould be bad times for ’em if theyshouldn’t. Them as knows Davy Barring won’t doubt his word in Injinmatters, not by a long shot. Wonder, though, how the settlers will likethe idee o’ runnin’ away from these four tribes of heathens, with oldBlack Hawk and all his crew yellin’ round their ears? Blame me if Idon’t wish there were a hundred or two men jis’ like myself, to rallyhere and give ’em a warmin’! Wouldn’t there be a skittish time, though?But there isn’t; so we may as well take things as they come. Maybe,arter all, the reds will strike another way, and give these folks achance to take the back track. But it does come hard to give up all aman’s done for six or ten years, and leave it to such ornery villains.It’s a consolation there isn’t as many o’ the redskins as there wouldhave been if Davy Barring hadn’t been born; and it’s sure there’ll beless yet, if nothin’ happens to Mister Davy, and his old rifle don’tmiss fire.”

The scout spoke with an air which showed his sincerity anddetermi

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