The American family Robinson

by D. W. Belisle

"I don't know, exactly," said Jones. "The young man I saw was at Fort Laramie. He had heard there were several distant tribes of Indians encamped there to trade with the whites, and had come to see if he could learn from them the fate that had befallen you."

"Then I suspect," said the trapper, "they have remained near the spot where they were encamped when we were stolen."

"Who is the chief of the Arapahoes?" asked Whirlwind.

"I think he is called the Bald Eagle, but I don't remember distinctly. When I passed through their country last spring, I heard about a great Medicine man, who was likewise their chieftain, who had been killed or carried away at the same time part of the family of Mr. Duncan had."

"This is the chief," said the trapper, "he still lives, and I hope will for many a long year yet to come."

"That would be great news for the Arapahoes," said Cole, "and their joy could scarcely be exceeded by that of Mr. Duncan's family, could they know their lost ones were safe."

They had somewhat recovered from the fatigues of their flight, and proposed renewing their journey. The autumn, which was far advanced, warned them it was time to be on the move, if they intended to reach the haunts of civilization before the snows began to fall, and as Cole and Jones assured them they would certainly strike a trail that led to the Pacific coast in three or four days' travel, they were impatient to be on the move. They suffered much with the cold, as the nights were keen enough to create ice an inch in thickness, and the frosts destroyed a great deal of the herbage on which the horses subsisted. The third day the sky began to grow heavy in the morning, and as the air was keen they feared snow would fall, but it partially broke away before night, greatly to their satisfaction. They lay down by their camp-fire with the stars gleaming, though faintly, above them.

About midnight they were awakened by flakes of snow falling on their faces, and on awaking, they discovered the ground white around them. Before morning the white covering was three inches deep. The winter had set in uncommonly early, and they with saddened hearts rode all day through the falling snow. Night came on, and scraping the ground clear of leaves and snow, they built themselves a temporary shelter, leaving one side open, by which the camp-fire was built. They had nothing to eat, having laid by no supply of roots or meat, and the ground was covered with snow so that the roots could not be found. Leaving Sidney, Edward, and Jane in the camp, the rest went out to get some game, and in half an hour the trapper returned with a pair of wild turkeys. He was followed soon by Cole who brought some pheasants and a grey squirrel. As the shades of night began to gather around them, the others came in with a fawn and a mountain sheep. There was no fear then of their being supperless; and, after eating a hearty meal, they laid down to sleep with the snow still falling around them. When they awoke in the morning the sky was clear and the sun arose warm, and by noon had softened the snow so much as to make it wet their clothing, as they brushed it from the pendant branches in riding along. When they encamped that night, Jane was shivering with cold, and too ill to eat; but the rest lay by the fire, and slept as well as the disagreeable situation in which they were placed would allow. Jane was quite ill the next day, and they did not think it prudent to travel; but by night she felt much better, and as they calculated they could strike the trail in another day's journey, they determined to be in the saddle by daylight.

Riding, as fast as the rugged uneven country through which they were travelling would permit, for three hours, they came to the trail earlier in the day than they had anticipated, greatly to their relief. Here now they were on a road that would lead them to their friends from which they had so long been separated, during which time they had encountered so many trials and so much suffering. The sight of it dispelled all fatigue from them, and they were ready, nay, eager, to turn their horses homeward. They were restrained from such mad proceedings by the cool, undisturbed equanimity of Jones, who said: "The journey home requires three months' hard travelling, and if we undertake it in our present unprepared condition, we shall certainly perish by cold and hunger. On the other hand the trail in the opposite direction, will lead us to a safe harbor, in a third of the distance which, when accomplished, we shall be willing to stay in till spring comes again. It is always dangerous travelling through these wilds when prepared, but in our destitute condition it is most hazardous."

"Lead us on; we can endure it," cried the children, enthusiastically.