The book had been taken from our wagon, and I had endeavored to teach the Indians from it, for it contained several stories; so it made the Indians very angry to have me part with it.
For hours I had sat with the book in my hands, showing them the pictures and explaining their meaning, which interested them greatly, and which helped pass away and relieve the monotony of the days of captivity which I was enduring. Moreover, it inspired them with a degree of respect and veneration for me when engaged in the task, which was not only pleasant, but a great comfort. It was by this means they discovered my usefulness in writing letters and reading for them.
I found them apt pupils, willing to learn, and they learned easily and rapidly. Their memory is very retentive—unusually good.
CHAPTER XII.
FIRST INTIMATION OF MY LITTLE MARY’S FATE—DESPAIR AND DELIRIUM—A SHOWER OF GRASSHOPPERS—A FEAST AND A FIGHT—AN ENRAGED SQUAW—THE CHIEF WOUNDED.
One day, as I was pursuing what seemed to me an endless journey, an Indian rode up beside me, whom I did not remember to have seen before.
At his saddle hung a bright and well-known little shawl, and from the other side was suspended a child’s scalp of long, fair hair.
As my eyes rested on the frightful sight, I trembled in my saddle and grasped the air for support. A blood-red cloud seemed to come between me and the outer world, and I realized that innocent victim’s dying agonies.
The torture was too great to be endured—a merciful insensibility interposed between me and madness.