His
life had been a continual danger, his hope had been always to return to
his early attachments; but the chain of habit fettered him, and he had
learned to love the wild, solitary life, because of its excitements and
its dangers. Should he, like this man, come to love the solitude and
silence of the wilderness, and find companionship only with his traps
and guns?
His resolution was taken, he would renew the strife with the world and
go back to busy life. His companion of many dangers and long marches
was going to Mexico in search of new adventures. They are alone upon
the broad levee--busy men are hurrying to and fro, little heeding the
two--a small schooner is dropping and sheeting home her sails; she is
up for Tampico, and Gilmanot goes in her; she is throwing off her
fastenings. "All aboard," cries the swarthy, whiskered captain--a grasp
of the hand--no word was spoken--it was warm and sincere, there was no
need of words--each understood that last warm farewell pressure. She is
sweeping around Slaughter-house Point--only the topmasts are visible
now--and now she is gone.
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