Part 24 (1/2)

”I hope no one will make any such blunder,” said Albert.

The pa.s.sage over the mountains was easy, the weather continuing favorable, and on another suns.h.i.+ny morning they reached the plains, which flowed out boundlessly before them. These, too, were touched with green, but the boys were perplexed. The s.p.a.ce was so vast, and it was all so much alike, that it did not look as if they could ever arrive anywhere.

”I think we'd better make for Cheyenne in Wyoming Territory,”

said d.i.c.k.

”But we don't know how far away it is, nor in what direction,”

said Albert.

”No; but if we keep on going we're bound to get somewhere. We've got lots of time before us, and we'll take it easy.”

They had filled their skin water bags, made in the winter, at the last spring, and they set out at a moderate pace over the plain.

d.i.c.k had thought once of visiting again the scene of the train's destruction in the pa.s.s, but Albert opposed it.

”No,” he said, ”I don't want to see that place.”

This journey, they knew not whither, continued easy and pleasant throughout the day. The gra.s.s was growing fast on the plains, and all the little steams that wound now and then between the swells were full of water, and, although they still carried the filled water bags, d.i.c.k inferred that they were not likely to suffer from thirst. Late in the afternoon they saw a small herd of antelope and a lone buffalo grazing at a considerable distance, and d.i.c.k drew the second and comforting inference that game would prove to be abundant. He was so pleased with these inferences that he stated them to Albert, who promptly drew a third.

”Wouldn't the presence of buffalo and antelope indicate that there are not many Indians hereabouts?” he asked.

”It looks likely,” replied d.i.c.k.

They continued southward until twilight came, when they built in a hollow a fire of buffalo chips, which were abundant all over the plain, and watched their friendly mountains sink away in the dark.

”Gives me a sort of homesick feeling,” said Albert. ”They've been good mountains to us. Shelter and home are there, but out here I feel as if I were stripped to the wind.”

”That describes it,” said d.i.c.k.

They did not keep any watch, but put out their fire and slept snugly in their blankets. They were awakened in the morning by the whine of a coyote that did not dare to come too near, and resumed their leisurely march, to continue in this manner for several days, meeting no human being either white or red.

They saw the mountains sink behind the sky line and then they felt entirely without a rudder. There was nothing to go by now except the sun, but they kept to their southern course. They were not greatly troubled. They found plenty of game, as d.i.c.k had surmised, and killed an antelope and a fat young buffalo cow.

”We may travel a long journey, Al,” said d.i.c.k with some satisfaction, ”but it's not hard on us. It's more like loafing along on an easy holiday.”

On the fifth day they ran into a large buffalo herd, but did not molest any of its members, as they did not need fresh meat.

”Seems to me,” said d.i.c.k, ”that Sioux would be after this herd if they weren't busy elsewhere. It looks like more proof that the Sioux are on the warpath and are to the eastward of us, fighting our own people.”

”The Sioux are a great and warlike tribe, are they not?” asked Albert.

”The greatest and most warlike west of the Mississippi,” replied d.i.c.k. ”I understand that they are really a group of closely related tribes and can put thousands of warriors in the field.”

”Bright Sun, I suppose, is with them?”

”Yes, I suppose so. He is an Indian, a Sioux, no matter if he was at white schools and for years with white people. He must feel for his own, just as you and I, Al, feel for our own race.”

They wandered three or four more days across the plains, and were still without sign of white man or red. They experienced no hards.h.i.+p. Water was plentiful. Game was to be had for the stalking and life, had they been hunting or exploring, would have been pleasant; but both felt a sense of disappointment--they never came to anything. The expanse of plains was boundless, the loneliness became overpowering. They had not the remotest idea whether they were traveling toward any white settlement. Human life seemed to shun them.

”d.i.c.k,” said Albert one day, ”do you remember the story of the Flying Dutchman, how he kept trying for years to round the Cape of Storms, and couldn't do it? I wonder if some such penalty is put on us, and if so, what for?”