Half-dreaming, I
saw myself surrounded with the mountains of New England, alive with
water-falls, their black crags tinctured with milk-white mists. For
this reverie I paid a speedy penalty; for the bread was black on one
side and soft on the other.
For eight hours Raymond and I, pillowed on our saddles, lay
insensible as logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched over me when
I awoke. I got up and examined her. Her feet indeed were bruised
and swollen by the accidents of yesterday, but her eye was brighter,
her motions livelier, and her mysterious malady had visibly abated.
We moved on, hoping within an hour to come in sight of the Indian
village; but again disappointment awaited us. The trail disappeared,
melting away upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and I separating,
rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, until at
length I discerned traces of the lodge-poles passing by the side of a
ridge of rocks. We began again to follow them.
"What is that black spot out there on the prairie?"
"It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond.
We rode out to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of a bull
killed by the Indians as they had passed.
