"But they may come over at some other point and get behind him."
"I did not think of that," said the husband more thoughtfully; "but I am sure he will not stay any longer than he ought. It won't do for us to go back, for, if the Indians do cross the river, we shall be in their path. It may be well to go part of the way over our own track, so as to make it easier for him to find us. Come on, and make no noise."
"But you are not taking the right course," protested his wife: "you should turn more to the left."
"I feel almost sure you are wrong; but you have had your senses about you all the time, which is more than I have had, and I bow to your decision."
"But, mother, you are not right," interposed Edith, now fully awake; "you should go that way"; and she indicated a route widely different from that of either—so different, indeed, that her mother could not accept it.
"No, dear, you are wrong," she calmly replied. "I will lead."
And yet there is reason to believe the child was nearer right than either, and had her suggestion been adopted, much of what followed might have been averted.
While they were riding, as they believed, in the direction of the Big Cheyenne, Mr. Kingsland noticed that the pony of his son was not with them. His wife said that he did not come up the river-bank, and was probably waiting for Brinton to go to him. It will thus be seen that the youth was wrong in his supposition about the movements of Jack.
By-and-by the time came when Mrs. Kingsland saw she had committed a sad blunder, and, instead of approaching the river, had gone still farther from it; they could hear nothing of its flow, and were lost on the prairie. Husband and wife now debated what was best to do.
It was found that when each, including Edith, named the supposed direction to the stream, they were as widely apart as before.