My fears were not unfounded. Porcupine prepared to go back to the fort without me, disregarding my earnest prayers and entreaties.
The chief found me useful, and determined to keep me. He believed that a woman who had seen so much of their deceitfulness and cruelty could do them injury at the fort, and might prevent their receiving annuities.
Porcupine said he should report me as dead, or impossible to find; nor could I prevail on him to do any thing to the contrary.
When reminded of the possible vengeance of the soldiers on his wives, whom they had threatened to kill if he did not bring me back, he laughed.
“The white soldiers are cowards,” he replied; “they never kill women; and I will deceive them as I have done before.”
Saying this, he took his departure; nor could my most urgent entreaties induce the chief to yield his consent, and allow me to send a written message to my friends, or in any way assure them of my existence. All hope of rescue departed, and sadly I turned again to the wearisome drudgery of my captive life.
The young betrothed bride of the old chief was very gracious to me. On one occasion she invited me to join her in a walk. The day was cool, and the air temptingly balmy.
“Down there,” she said, pointing to a deep ravine; “come and walk there; it is cool and shady.”
I looked in the direction indicated, and then at the Indian girl, who became very mysterious in her manner, as she whispered:
“There are white people down there.”