“Good, clever Nat, I will do anything for him,” I exclaimed, warmly. “He is a whole-souled fellow, for all he is so odd. Only to think, he has been so nigh me all this time! Of course, it is my place to assist him, as far as lies in my power.”
“I have had several conversations with him, in all of which he spoke of you. He appeared to love you, and regretted greatly that you were so reckless. He said he had long striven to teach you how to hunt with caution, but never succeeded. He also referred to a trapper named Bill Biddon, the one who did his best to save our family when they fell victims to the savages, and who I would give all the world to see. He said he succeeded, after several years, in making quite a hunter of him.”
“Oh! the rascal,” I laughed, “just like him.”
When day dawned we continued our journey for several hours. I learned in the course of our conversation that Imogene Merment wandered continually among the tribes for many miles around, and, as I learned in after years, her existence was known to points as far opposite as Fort Churchill and Fort Hall.[4]
At noon I shot a ptarmigan, which was cooked and upon which we made a hearty dinner. Imogene ascended a small eminence to ascertain whether any signs of pursuit were visible. None were discovered, but we hurried forward until nightfall, when we drew up for the night. We started a fire, and at my urgent request, Imogene lay down beside it, while I kept watch. Our horses were picketed at scarcely a rod distant, and yet in the night they became so terrified at the approach of some animal, that they broke loose and fled, and we never saw them again.
This was a great loss to us, but in the morning we continued our journey on foot, and at noon ascended a high mountain, which was a spur of the Black Hills, lying between the Yellowstone and Missouri. The day was a clear, beautiful one, and the fairest peaks of the mountains, looming up against the blue, far-off horizon, formed a fine background to the glorious landscape spread out before us. Never shall I forget the magnificent scene which was opened to our vision. To the north, the mighty wilderness stretched in one unbroken tract as far as the eye could reach, while to the southward the glistening waters of the vast rivers could be seen, winding and losing their tortuous channels in the forest again. Numerous patches of prairie were visible to the west, and small, dark specks moving over their face, showed us that animal life was not wanting in this favored country. South of us, nestling in a deep valley, could be seen the tiny beehive-like lodges of the tribe we had left, seemingly covering scarcely a square rod of ground.
“Yonder,” said Imogene, pointing to the northward, “is the tribe which holds your friend. The village is two days’ journey, but the course is direct, and you cannot fail to find it. If you wish to search for him, I will remain here until you return. I should wish to approach no nearer, as it would increase the danger to both of us. Your friend has hunted with the tribe in this mountain, and should you be at a loss to find me again, ask him to guide you to the ‘Death Rock,’ and you will reach me by the most direct course.”
I hesitated long before leaving Imogene, but my duty to Nat, and the hopeful view she took of it, finally decided me. She was confident I should find him and be back in a few days, and urged me to delay no longer. We repaired to the “Death Rock,” where we separated. Imogene was familiar with its peculiarities, and assured me that in its recesses she could find security from any animal foe.[5] Before leaving her, I saw that she was provided with food sufficient to last a week at least, and as she was furnished with a rifle and ammunition, her situation was certainly as good as my own.