The sun grew hot; Warren and I were drenched with perspiration as we plodded on. Every now and then Me-chah'-pe gave us an encouraging word, when we showed signs of lagging. We were determined to keep on, for were we not going to a buffalo hunt! The heat increased. The dogs did not now chase each other and run after birds as when we started out, but let loose their tongues and panted, keeping close to the shadows of the horses. On we all trudged, while the one baby slept on its mother's back, its little head rocking from side to side with the motion of her steps.
As we reached an elevated point on the ridge, Me-chah'-pe shaded his face with his hand and scanned the horizon. Far ahead of us his experienced eye caught sight of an object, like a mere speck. He pointed it out to us, saying, "There's somebody coming."
Warren and I looked at each other in alarm, and then kept our eyes on the speck, which grew larger and larger as the distance between it and us lessened.
"The horse looks like one of your father's," said Me-chah'-pe to me. "I think it is some one looking for you!"
My heart sank When I recognized the horse as father's, and the rider as my uncle, and, for the first time in my life, I was not glad to meet him.
Warren and I were captured, and there was no escape. We tried to be brave when Me-chah'-pe shook hands with us, as his party moved westward; but we were far from happy when, ignominiously mounted on father's horse, one behind the other, we followed my uncle, who walked so rapidly that the animal had to trot now and then to keep up. The road over which we had so laboriously travelled on our outward way was soon retraced, and the sun still high when my uncle, who had wandered all night in search of us, turned us over to Gray-beard.
It was thought best to punish us; so Warren was taken to the top of the house and locked up in the attic, where he was to reflect upon the wrong he had committed in running away. But I am quite sure he thought more about the devil and the ghosts in that horrid place than of anything else.
As for me, I was marched to the dining-room, placed with my back to one of the posts, and my arms brought around it and tied; then I was left alone in this uncomfortable position,—to repent.
The afternoon was close and hot; the windows and doors were open, but the place was very quiet. Now and then I heard the cry of a bird, or the laughter of the happy wren. The time seemed very long as I stood there, with my arms thrown back around the post and my hands tied so that I could not defend myself against the flies that attacked my bare feet. A rooster came to the back door and entered the dining-room. He shied on discovering me; but, as I did not move, he began picking in the cracks of the floor. He spied my toe, looked at it curiously, turning his head from side to side, then stretched his neck and gave it a dab. I was in no mood to be amused by his actions, so I sent him flopping and squawking under the table. Recovering from his surprise, he ran around, sprang on the table, then on the sill of the open window, tossed up his head, flapped his wings, gave a lusty crow, and hopped out.
Immediately I saw eight little fingers hook themselves on the outer edge of the window-sill, and a head with black hair held back by a rubber comb rise higher and higher until two bright eyes gazed right into mine. The head disappeared, and shortly after a little figure cautiously approached the door, looked all around, and then came up to me. It was Rosalie. Her bright smiling face threw a sunbeam into my gloomy little heart. Without saying a word she wiped the perspiration from my face with the corner of her apron; then she went away softly in the direction of the kitchen. Soon she returned with a tin cup having in it bits of ice. She took a lump and put it in my mouth, then stood looking in my face. After a while, she said, "I like you, don't I?"