The Camp in the Foot-Hills
Oscar on Horseback
9781465631374
118 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
“I declare, I almost wish I was going with him!” It was our old friend Oscar Preston who said this. He was standing on the platform in front of the station at Julesburg, gazing after the stage-coach in which Leon Parker, the disgusted and repentant runaway, whose adventures and mishaps have already been described, had taken passage for Atchison. Oscar, as we know, had stumbled upon Leon by the merest chance, and fortunately he was in a position to render him the assistance of which he stood so much in need. By advancing him money out of his own pocket he had put it in Leon’s power to return to the home he had so recklessly deserted, and those who have read “Two Ways of Becoming a Hunter” know how glad the runaway was to accept his proffered aid. Up to this time Oscar had been all enthusiasm. There was no employment in the world that he could think of that so accorded with his taste as the mission on which he had been sent—that of procuring specimens for the museum that was to be added to the other attractions connected with the university at Yarmouth. His head was full of plans. So anxious was he to make his expedition successful, and to win the approbation of the committee who employed him, that he had been able to think of nothing else; but when he saw the coach moving away from the station he began to have some faint idea of the agony Leon must have suffered when he found himself alone in that wilderness, with no friend to whom he could go for sympathy or advice. In short Oscar was very homesick. In a few days, if nothing unforeseen happened, Leon would be in Eaton, surrounded by familiar scenes and familiar faces, while Oscar himself would, in a short time, disappear as completely from the gaze of the civilized world as though he had suddenly ceased to exist. Even with his inexperienced eye he could see that bad weather was close at hand. Perhaps before he reached the foot-hills the winter’s storms would burst forth in all their fury, blocking the trail with drifts, and effectually shutting him off from all communication with those he had left behind. He had never been so far away from his mother before, and neither had she ever seemed so dear and so necessary to him as she did now. And then there was Sam—impulsive, good-natured, kind-hearted Sam Hynes—who had so long been his chosen friend and almost constant companion! Oscar would have given much if he could have looked into his honest face and felt the cordial grasp of his hand once more. Some such thoughts as these passed through the mind of the young hunter as he stood there on the platform with his hands in his pockets, gazing after the rapidly receding stage-coach, and for a moment he looked and felt very unlike the happy, ambitious boy who had left Eaton but a short time before with such bright anticipations of the future. Then he dashed away the mist that seemed to be gathering before his eyes, pushed back his hat, which he had drawn low over his forehead, and took himself to task for his weakness. “A pretty hunter I shall make if this is the way I am to feel!” was his mental exclamation. “I talked very glibly to Sam Hynes about going on a three or four years’ expedition to Africa to collect specimens, and here I am, homesick already, although I have been away from Eaton scarcely two weeks. This will never do. I must get to work at once.” Just at that moment the stage-coach reached the top of a high ridge over which the road ran, and Leon turned in his seat to wave his farewell to the boy who had befriended him. Oscar waved his handkerchief in reply, and, having seen the coach disappear over the brow of the hill, he sprang off the platform and bent his steps toward the fort.
