The others gathered about the wagons, deciding on what was worth saving, and what had better be destroyed.

Teams were doubled up, and several of the heavy Conestogas rumbled away into the darkness.

Two, too badly injured to be repaired, were fired where they lay, the bright flames lighting up the high banks on either side the road.

I watched this work impatiently, although it required but a few moments, and finally turned aside in search of a good mount.

I found a big black, with British arms on the bridle, and a pair of loaded pistols in the holsters, a fine-looking animal, and came back into the fire glow, determined to lose no more time.