It was the work of a very short half hour to strike and pack the tent, stow away the mats and kettles, saddle the horses and mount for our journey.
"Whoever pleases may take my place in the carriage," said our mother. "I have travelled so many years on horseback, that I find any other mode of conveyance too fatiguing."
So, spite of her sixty years, she mounted sister Margaret's pacer with the activity of a girl of sixteen.
Lieut. Foster had left us early in the morning, feeling it necessary to rejoin his command, and now, having seen us ready to set off, with a serene sky above us, and all things "right and tight" for the journey, our friend the Sau-ga-nash took leave of us, and retraced his steps towards Chicago.
We pursued our way through a lovely country of alternate glade and forest, until we reached the Fox River.[76] The current ran clear and rippling along, and as we descended the steep bank to the water, the question, so natural to a traveller in an unknown region, presented itself, "Is it fordable?"
Petaille, to whom the ground was familiar, had not yet made his appearance. Lecuyer was quite ignorant upon the subject. The troops had evidently preceded us by this very trail. True, but they were on horseback--the difficulty was, could we get the carriage through? It must be remembered, that the doubt was not about the depth of the water, but about the hardness of the bottom of the stream.
It was agreed that two or three of the equestrians should make the trial first. My mother, Lecuyer and myself advanced cautiously across to the opposite bank, each choosing a different point for leaving the water, in order to find the firmest spot. The bottom was hard and firm until we came near the shore, then it yielded a little. With one step, however, we were each on dry ground.
"Est-il beau?" called my husband, who was driving.
"Yes, John, come just here, it is perfectly good."
"No, no--go a little further down. See the white gravel just there--it will be firmer still, there."
Such were the contradictory directions given. He chose the latter, and when it wanted but one step more to the bank, down sunk both horses, until little more than their backs were visible.
The white gravel proved to be a bed of treacherous yellow clay, which gleaming through the water, had caused so unfortunate a deception.