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Updated: June 23, 2025
"It is all over with us now," exclaimed Will Osten, bitterly; "if we had only had the chance of a good fight beforehand, it would have been some comfort!" "When you have lived longer in the wilderness, lad," said Big Ben, "you'll not give way to despair so easily." These remarks were made as they sat on the grass while the Indians were engaged in catching and saddling the horses.
Thanks to Von Osten, whose patience, contrary to what one might think, was in no wise angelic but resembled rather a frenzied obstinacy, the horse made rapid and extraordinary progress.
Just before Will Osten opened his eyes, he was looking into his pale face with an expression that was ludicrously woe-begone. The instant he observed the slightest motion in his patient, however, he became suddenly abstracted, and gazed, as we have said, with a seraphic expression through the doorway.
When they at length unwillingly pulled up, the shades of evening were beginning to descend on the scene, and neither buffalo nor comrades were within range of their vision. "Humph! we've got lost because of that rascal," grumbled Will Osten. "Bad luck to it!" exclaimed his companion. "Have you any idea of the way back?" asked Will, with a look of perplexity.
The axe was then applied to his ribs the heart, the fat, the tender loins and other parts were taken out; then the great marrow-bones were cut from his legs, and the whole being wrapped in the green hide, was slung on a pole, and carried by Will Osten and the trapper to the nearest suitable camping ground.
Will Osten and his friends were so glad to find that a shipmate had, unknown to them, harboured thoughts of escaping, that they at once leaped to his side, but none of the others followed. They were all determined, reckless men, and had no intention of giving up their wild course. Moreover, they were not prepared to allow their comrades to go off quietly.
Knowing that one man with a gun could make certain of shooting the whole party if he chose, and that he would not be more likely to attempt violence if trust in his generosity were displayed, Will Osten, with characteristic impetuosity, suddenly walked into the full blaze of the firelight and made signals to the stranger to approach.
But these again are questions to which there is no solution; and we will not pursue them further. I will first sum up as briefly as possible, for who so may still be ignorant of them, the facts which it is necessary to know if one would fully understand the marvelous story of the Elberfeld horses. Some twenty years ago there lived in Berlin an old misanthrope named Wilhelm von Osten.
It was late on a winter evening when our hero, William Osten, arrived in England, in company with his two friends and former messmates, Bunco and Larry O'Hale.
They never saw the unfortunate man again, but it is worthy of remark that, years after, Will Osten heard of him through a friend who happened to cross the Andes at the same point.
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