"You must not spoil your beautiful hands," he protested; "they are for higher things. Please return the lines to me."
"Oh no! Please! Just another half-hour—till we reach that butte. I'm stronger than you think. I am accustomed to the whip."
She had her way in this, and drove nearly the entire afternoon. When he took the reins at last, her fingers were cramped and swollen, but her face was deeply flushed with pleasure.
"I've had a delicious drive," she gratefully remarked.
At the foot of a tall butte Curtis turned his team and struck into a road leading to the left. This road at once descended upon a crescent-shaped, natural meadow enclosed by a small stream, like a babe in a sheltering arm. All about were signs of its use as a camping-ground. Sweat lodges, broken tepee-poles, piles of blackened stones, and rings of bowlders told of the many fires that had been built. Willows fringed the creek, while to the south and west rose a tall, bare hill, on which a stone tower stood like a sentinel warrior.
Elsie cried out in delight of the place. "Isn't it romantic!" Already the sun, sinking behind the hill, threw across the meadow a mysterious purple gloom, out of which a couple of tents gleamed like gray bowlders.
"There is your house to-night," said Curtis. "See the tents?"
"How tiny they look!" Elsie exclaimed, in a hushed voice, as though fearing to alarm and put them to flight.
"They are small, but as night falls you will be amazed to discover how snug and homelike they can become."
Two Horns came to meet them, and Parker cried out, "Hello! see the big Indian!"