mountain.
CHAPTER XX.
RHAIUIE FLOWER STILL ABSENT RESOLVE
TO DEPART BID OUR FRIENDS ADIEU SET
FORWARD WITH OUR GUIDE UNEXPECT ED MEETING WITH PRAIRIE FLOWER
RETURN TO THE VILLAGE A SPLENDID
PRESENT OUR ROUTE CHANGED ^SECOND
ADIEU PRATRTE FLOWER AS GUIDE OUR
.LAST PAINFUL PARTING WITH OUR SWEET BENEFACTRESS.
THREE days dragged on wearily for without Prairie Flower, the Indian village Deemed gloomy and insipid both to Humtiy and myself and the fourth morning had come, and yet our fair benefactress had not made her appearance. Where had she gone, and wherefore did she not return? We ques tioned several of the villagers; but all shook their heads and replied, some in good and some in broken English, that they did not know, that she was frequently absent a month at a time, and that she rarely told on leaving where she was going or when she would return. Perhaps, then, her journey was merely taken to avoid a fare well scene, thinking we should depart in her absence; and this I mentioned to Huntly, whose surmises I found corres ponded with mine.
She has done it," he said, somewhat itterly, "to put a slight upon us, or rather pon me, whose presence lately seems ost offensive to her; and for myself I am going to leave you can do as you ike."
In this I knew my friend was wrong al- rether; but I did not contradict him or under the circumstances, I preferred he hould think as he did, rather than be ade aware of what, as I imagined, was e true cause of her actions. I therefore eplied :
"Let us away, then, as soon as pos- ible." "Agreed."
Upon this we hastened to bid our Indian lends a long adieu, who seemed greatly urprised and expressed astonishment that ve should leave so suddenly, without hav- ng given them a previous notice. Hav- ng gone the entire rounds, shook the dus- f hands of each, young and old Great edicine not excepted, who enlarged his
small, dark eyes to their utmost tension, but merely grunted a farewell and thank ed each and all heartily for their hospitality and kindness to us as strangers, we pre pared to set out at once for Fort Laramie. As the direct route was unknown to us, we inquired the way particularly where upon a stout, rather good-looking, intelli gent Indian youth volunteered his services to act as guide a proposition which we readily and gratefully accepted, with a promised reward when we should arrive safely at our destination.
It was a bright, clear, frosty morning, and the sun, just rising above the moun tains, poured down his radiant light, glad dening the forest and our hearts with his presence; and this, together with the bra cing air, the freedom we fancied we were
O
about to experience after our long confine ment, in being once more upon our journey in good health, produced feelings of buoy ancy and independence, such as we had not known for many a long day.
Our gukie had left us, as he said, to make preparations for our journey, and we were already becoming impatient at what we considered his tardiness, when, to our surprise, he reappeared, mounted on one, and leading two horses, which he signifi cantly intimated were at our service. This was a kindness we could fully appreciate, and of course felt no desire to chide him for his delay. Thanking him in unmea sured terms for his happy foresight in thus insuring us speed and safety against fa tigue, we vaulted into the saddles with as much agility as if we had never known a mishap.
Waving a silent adieu to the villagers, who came forth in a body to see us depart, we turned our horses' heads down the hill, and setting forward, soon reached the val ley, crossed the stream, and burying our selves in the forest, shut the Indian village completely from our view.
"Well, Frank," exclaimed Huntly, gay- ly, as with a spirited gallop we buried our selves deeper and deeper in the forest of the valley, " this seems like old times eh! my dear fellow?"
"It does, indeed!" I replied in the same joyous manner, as I felt the warm blood of active excitement again cours ing through all
