Page:The Prairie Flower; Or, Adventures In the Far West.djvu/98

 preserT*

youi lives from your natural enemies, the savages and wild beasts."

Here was another unexpected kindness, and both Huntly and myself were profuse in pur thanks. Prairie Flower then in quired the route we intended to take; and being answered that this would depend much upon circumstances, she advised us to cross the Black Hills some ten miles south of our present location, and hold our course westward over Laramie plains, Medicine Bow Mountains, and the North Fork of Platte, to Brown's Hole on Green River, where doubtless we should find many trappers, and perhaps some of our old acquaintances giving as a reason for directing us thus, that there would be less danger from the Indians, who, notwith standing our signal victory at Bitter Cot- tonwood, still continued in parties along the regular Oregon route, killing the whites whenever they could do so without too much risk to themselves.

Thanking Prairie Flower for her advice, I replied that, having reached Fort Lara mie, it would be doubtful if we returned ihis way that in all probability we should join some party of emigrants or, failing in this, take a middle course and run our risks.

"But I see no necessity for your going to Fort Laramie," she rejoined.

"You forget, Prairie Flower, that we have no horses, and it would be foolish at least to attempt such a journey on foot."

To this she made no direct reply, but went on suggesting various things for our convenience and safety, with as much apparent concern for our welfare, as if her own life and fortunes were bound up in ours.

At length the conversation slacked, and thinking it a good opportunity, I declared that our time had expired, and that we must start forthwith.

"Well, I will not detain you longer," replied Prairie Flower, leading -the way out of the cabin.

To our surprise, we found at the door two beautiful steeds, (not the ones we had .just ridden,) richly adorned with Spanish saddles, bridles, and apishamores,* with

blankets of buffalo calf-skin, dressed

two sacks of jerked meat hanging to tb horns, and four large buffalo skins strap ped on behind, while along side stood thY handsome pony of our fair benefactress, each and all ready for a start.

"What mean these?" I inquired, turn ing to Prairie Flower.

"Simply," she answered, with the ut most naivete, "that you must accept frcua me these horses and trappings, without a word, and allow me to be youi guide to the point where you will turn off to crosa the mountains."

"But, Prairie Flower "

"Not a word not a single word such are the conditions."

"But we have money, and "

"Surely you would not insult me," she interrupted, " by offering \.o pay?"

I saw by her manner that to say more would only be to offend; and seizing her hand, I pressed it, with a hearty " God bless you!" while my eyes, in spite of me, became dimmed with tears. Huntly was too deeply affected to speak at all, and therefore only pressed her hand in silence, during which the features of Prairie Flow* er grew very pale, and she was forced to turn aside her head to conceal her emo tion. We now comprehended all why she had gone to Fort Laramie, and had insisted on our return with her to the vil lage and as we recalled her former kind ness and generosity, and our own base suspicions of her intention to slight us, the result was to make both Huntly and my self very sad. She had her revenge, we felt, and a noble one it was too.

Mounting our horses, we again bade a silent adieu to the Mysterious. Tribe, and, in company with Prairie Flower, quitted the village the second time, with more re gret than the first, and took our way southward, in a direction almost opposite our previous one.

As we rode on, I noticed that our fair guide became exceedingly abstracted, and when she fancied herself unobserved, that she frequently sighed. Poor girl! she was laboring to suppress feelings, which, like the pent up fires of a volcano, were pre paring to rend the tenement which confined them; and the very thought clouded my path with melancholy. Huntly, too, was abstracted and silent, so that little