Part 24 (2/2)

The thought lodged in the minds of both. Oppressed by long and fruitless wanderings, they began to have a superst.i.tion that they were to continue them forever. They knew that it was unreasonable, but it clung, nevertheless. There were the rolling plains, the high, bra.s.sy sky, and the clear line of the horizon on all sides, with nothing that savored of human life between.

They had hoped for an emigrant train, or a wandering band of hunters, or possibly a troop of cavalry, but days pa.s.sed and they met none. Still the same high, bra.s.sy sky, still the same unbroken horizons. The plains increased in beauty. There was a fine, delicate shade of green on the buffalo gra.s.s, and wonderful little flowers peeped shy heads just above the earth, but d.i.c.k and Albert took little notice of either. They had sunk into an uncommon depression. The terrible superst.i.tion that they were to wander forever was strengthening its hold upon them, despite every effort of will and reason. In the hope of better success they changed their course two or three times, continuing in each case several days in that direction before the next change was made.

”We've traveled around so much now,” said Albert despondently, ”that we couldn't go back to our mountains if we wanted to do it. We don't know any longer in what direction they lie.”

”That's so,” said d.i.c.k, with equal despondency showing in his tone.

His comment was brief, because they talked but little now, and every day were talking less. Their spirits were affected too much to permit any excess of words. But they came finally to rougher, much more broken country, and they saw a line of trees on the crest of hills just under the sunset horizon. The sight, the break in the monotony, the cheerful trees made them lift up their drooping heads.

”Well, at any rate, here's something new,” said d.i.c.k. ”Let's consider it an omen of good luck, Al.”

They reached the slope, a long one, with many depressions and hollows, containing thick groves of large trees, the heights beyond being crowned with trees of much taller growth. They would have gone to the summit, but they were tired with a long day's tramp and they had not yet fully aroused themselves from the lethargy that had overtaken them in their weary wanderings.

”Night's coming,” said Albert, ”so let's take to that hollow over there with the scrub ash in it.”

”All right,” said d.i.c.k. ”Suits me.”

It was a cozy little hollow, deeply shaded by the ash trees, but too rocky to be damp, and they did not take the trouble to light a fire. They had been living for some time on fresh buffalo and antelope, and had saved their jerked meat, on which they now drew for supper.

It was now quite dark, and each, throwing his blanket lightly around his shoulders, propped himself in a comfortable position.

Then, for the first time in days, they began to talk in the easy, idle fas.h.i.+on of those who feel some degree of contentment, a change made merely by the difference in scene, the presence of hills, trees, and rocks after the monotonous world of the plains.

”We'll explore that country to-morrow,” said d.i.c.k, nodding his head toward the crest of the hills. ”Must be something over there, a river, a lake, and maybe trappers.”

”Hope it won't make me homesick again for our valley,” said Albert sleepily. ”I've been thinking too much of it, anyway, in the last few days. d.i.c.k, wasn't that the most beautiful lake of ours that you ever saw? Did you ever see another house as snug as Castle Howard? And how about the Annex and the Suburban Villa? And all those beautiful streams that came jumping down between the mountains?”

”If you don't shut up, Al,” said d.i.c.k, ”I'll thrash you with this good handy stick that I've found here.”

”All right,” replied Albert, laughing; ”I didn't mean to harrow up your feelings any more than I did my own.”

Albert was tired, and the measure of content that he now felt was soothing. Hence, his drowsiness increased, and in ten minutes he went comfortably to sleep. d.i.c.k's eyes were yet open, and he felt within himself such new supplies of energy and strength that he resolved to explore a little. The task that had seemed so hard two or three hours before was quite easy now. Albert would remain sleeping safely where he was, and, acting promptly, d.i.c.k left the hollow, rifle on shoulder.

It was an easy slope, but a long one. As he ascended, the trees grew more thickly and near the ascent were comparatively free from undergrowth. Just over the hill shone a magnificent full moon, touching the crest with a line of molten silver.

d.i.c.k soon reached the summit and looked down the far slope into a valley three or four hundred yards deep. The moon shed its full glory into the valley and filled it with rays of light.

The valley was at least two miles wide, and down its center flowed a fine young river, which d.i.c.k could see here and there in stretches, while the rest was hidden by forest. In fact, the whole valley seemed to be well clothed with mountain forest, except in one wide s.p.a.ce where d.i.c.k's gaze remained after it had alighted once.

Here was human life, and plenty of it. He looked down upon a circle of at least two hundred lodges, tent-shaped structures of saplings covered with bark, and he had heard quite enough about such things to know these were the winter homes of the Sioux.

The moonlight was so clear and his position so good that he was able to see figures moving about the lodges.

The sight thrilled d.i.c.k. Here he had truly come upon human life, but not the kind he wished to see. But it was vastly interesting, and he sought a closer look. His daring told him to go down the slope toward them, and he obeyed. The descent was not difficult, and there was cover in abundance--pines, ash, and oak.

As he was very careful, taking time not to break a twig or set a stone rolling, and stopping at intervals to look and listen, he was a half hour in reaching the valley, where, through the trees, he saw the Indian village. He felt that he was rash, but wis.h.i.+ng to see, he crept closer, the cover still holding good. He was, in a way, fascinated by what he saw. It had the quality of a dream, and its very unreality made him think less of the danger.

But he really did not know how expert he had become as a woodsman and trailer through his long training as a trapper, where delicacy of movement and craft were required.

He believed that the Indians, in such a secure location, would not be stirring beyond the village at this late hour, and he had little fear of anything except the sharp-nosed dogs that are always prowling about an Indian village. He was within three hundred yards of the lodges when he heard the faint sound of voices and footsteps. He instantly lay down among the bushes, but raised himself a little on his elbow in order to see.

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