Watching the opportunity, I dropped her gently, carefully, and unobserved, to the ground, and she lay there, while the Indians pursued their way, unconscious of their loss.
To portray my feelings upon this separation would be impossible. The agony I suffered was indescribable. I was firmly convinced that my course was wise-that I had given her the only chance of escape within my power; yet the terrible uncertainty of what her fate might be in the way before her, was almost unbearable.
I continued to think of it so deeply that at last I grew desperate, and resolved to follow her at every risk. Accordingly, watching an opportunity, I, too, slipped to the ground under the friendly cover of night, and the horse went on without its rider.
My plan was not successful. My flight was soon discovered, and the Indian wheeled around and rode back in my pursuit. Crouching in the undergrowth I might have escaped in the darkness, were it not for their cunning. Forming in a line of fort or fifth abreast, they actually covered the ground as they rode past me.
The horses themselves were thus led to betray me, for, being frightened at my crouching form, they stopped and reared, thus informing them of my hiding place.
With great presence of mind I arose the moment I found myself discovered, and relating my story, the invention of an instant, I succeeded partially in allaying their anger.
I told them the child had fallen asleep and dropped from the horse; that I had endeavored to call their attention to it, but in vain; and, fearing I would be unable to find her if we rode further, I had jumped down and attempted the search alone.
The Indians used great violence toward me, assuring me that if any further attempts were made to escape, my punishment would be accordingly.
They then promised to send a party out in search of the child when it became light.
Poor little Mary! alone in the wilderness, a little, helpless child; who can portray her terror!
With faith to trust, and courage to dare, that little, trembling form through the long hours of the night kept watch.
The lonely cry of the night-bird had no fear in its melancholy scream for the little wanderer who crouched amid the prairie grass. The baying of the gray wolf, as he passed the lonely watcher, might startle, but could not drive the faith from her heart.
Surely God is just, and angels will guide the faltering feet to friends and home. Innocent of wrong, how could she but trust that the unseen hands of spirits would guide her from the surrounding perilsI.
Chapter VI
Continuation of Our March Into the Wilderness - Suffering From Thirst and Weariness - Disappearance of My Fellow Prisoner - Loss Of the Old Chief's Pipe and Its Consequences to Me - A Scene of Terror
To take up the thread of my own narrative again, and the continuation of my journey with the savages, after the never-to-be-forgotten night whell I parted with little Mary, and the attempt to escape myself, will be to entertain my reader with a sight of the dangerous and precipitous paths among the great bluffs which we had been approaching, and the dizzy, fearful heights leading over the dark abyss, or the gloomy, terrible gorge, where only an Indian dares to venture.
The blackness of night, and the dread of our savage companions, added terror to this perilous ride. As we passed the little creek before we plunged into these rocky fastnesses, we had left some scattered woods along its banks.
I remember looking longingly at the dim shelter of these friendly trees, and being possessed by an almost uncontrollable desire to leap from the horse and dare my fate in endeavoring to reach their protecting shade but the Indians' rifles behind me, and my dread of instant death, restrained me. And now my attention was attracted by the wild and terrible scenery around us, through which our fearful captors rode at ease, although it seemed impossible for man or beast to retain a footing over such craggy peaks and through such rugged ravines.
The cool air and the sound of rippling water warned us of our nearness to a river; and soon the savages turned their horses down a steep declivity that, like a mighty wall, closed in the great bed of the North Platte.
I saw that the river was rapid and deep, but we crossed the sands, plunged in, and braved the current. From the child. to my husband was au easy transition; indeed, when I thought of one, the other was present in my mind; and to mark the path of our retreat with the letters and papers I dropped on our way, seemed the only hope I had of his being able to come to my rescue.
As the horses plunged into the swelling river I secretly dropped another letter, that; I prayed, might be a clue to the labyrinth through which we were being led; for I could see by all the Indians' precautions, that to mislead any who should have the temerity to attempt our recovery, was the design of their movements.
They had taken paths inaccessible to white men, and made their crossing at a point where it would be impossible for trains to pass, so that they might avoid meeting emigrants. Having reached the opposite bank they separated into squads, and started in every direction, except southward, so as to mislead or confuse pursuers by the various trails.
The band that surrounded and directed us kept to the northward a little by west. I tried to keep the points of compass clearly, because it seemed part of the hope that sustained me.
Mr. Kelly had said that our position on the Little Box Elder was about twelve miles from Deer Creek Station, which lay to the northwest of us. Marking our present course, I tried, by calculating the distance, to keep that position in my mind, for toward it my yearning desire for help and relief turned.
After crossing the river and issuing from the bluffs we came to a bright, cool stream of water in a lovely valley, which ran through its bosom, spreading a delicious freshness all around.
Brilliant flowers opened their gorgeous cups to the coming sunshine, and delicate blossoms hid themselves among the rich shrubbery and at the mossy roots of grand old trees.
The awakening birds soared upward with loud and joyful melodies, and nature rejoiced at approaching day.
The beauty and loveliness of the scene mocked my sleepless eyes, and despair tugged at my heart-strings; still I made superhuman efforts to appear cheerful, for my only refuge was in being submissive and practicing conciliation. My fear of them was too powerful to allow me to give way to emotion for one moment. There were sentinels stationed at different places to give the alarm, in case of anyone approaching to rescue, and I afterward learned that in such a case I would have been instantly murdered.
Next morning I learned, by signs, that Indians had gone out in search of little Mary, scattering themselves over the hills, in squads. Those remaining were constantly overlooking their plunder and unrolling bundles taken from our wagons. They indulged their admiration for their spoils in loud conversation.
The Indians seemed to select, with a clear knowledge of natural beauty, such localities as seemed best fitted to suggest refreshment and repose.
The scenery through which we had passed was wildly grand; it now became serenely beautiful, and to a lover of nature, with a mind free from fear and anxiety, the whole picture would have been a dream of delight.
The night of my capture, I was ordered to lie down on the ground, near a wounded Indian. A circle of them guarded me, and three fierce warriors sat near me with drawn tomahawks.
Reader, imagine my feelings, after the terrible scenes of the day previous; the desolate white woman in the power of revengeful savages, not daring to speak, lest their fury should fall on my defenceless head.
My great anxiety now was to preserve my sanity, which threatened to be overcome if I did not arouse myself to hope, and put aside the feeling of despair which at times stole over me. My heart was continually lifted to "Our Father," and confidently I now began to feel that prayer would be answered, and that God