The savage was, evidently, not enamoured of the lonesome journey back to his chief, for rumour had peopled every square mile of all the plains with warriors, and with hidden assassins. And spread across that arc of the sky where the sun had just gone down, were troops of clouds, of crimson, and bronze and pink; and in their curious shapes the solitary rider saw mighty horses, bestrode by giant riders, all congregated to join in the war. He knew that these were the spirits of chiefs who had ruled the plains long before the stranger with the pale face came; they always assembled when great battles were to be fought; and when their brothers began to lose heart in the fray, they would descend from the clouds and give to each warrior the heart of the lion, and the arm of the jaguar.
His heart swelled with a wild war-fever as these thoughts passed through his brain. Then the darkness began to creep over the plains; it came softly and as remorselessly as the prairie panther; and a fear grew upon the savage. The horsemen in the sky had come nearer to the earth; some of them had trooped across through the dusk, till they stood directly above his head; and he fancied that several of the figures had lowered themselves down till they almost touched him. In the deepening dusk he could not observe what they were doing. They at last actually reached the earth;—and three giants stood before his horse.
"Mon Dieu," shrieked the terrified creature, and his hand lost control over the reins. His pony did not heed the spectres, but walked straight on. Nay, he passed so close to one of the dread things that the Indian's arm brushed the goblin. Its touch was hard. The man shrieked, and in a terror that stopped the beating of his heart fell to the ground. When he arose, he found that the spectre was not from the sky; but only a tall prairie poplar.
Pray, readers, do not laugh at the unreasonable terror of this untutored savage. I have seen some of yourselves just as unreasonable.
While the Indian was suffering the sunset clouds to fill him, now with enthusiasm, and again with dread, Annette and Julie were keeping their ponies at their fleetest pace to regain sight of the party.
"Do you know, Julie, I feel a presentiment that an opportunity for the rescue will come to-night. The captors will not dream of pursuit so far from the frequented grounds and known trails, and they will be off their guard. See! yonder they camp;" and while she was yet speaking, a pyramid of scarlet flame, scattering showers of sparks, shot up from a recess in the bluff lying directly before them.
"Rein in, Julie, we must find a bluff a safe distance off for our horses. Should they get scent or sight of the ponies in yonder camp, and whinny, all would be lost."
So swerving to the left, and taking a course at right angles to their late one, they rode slowly and silently till a bluff rose from the prairie, a short distance in front, like a hill.
"We shall tether our horses here, Julie; but I believe our stay will not be a long one." And the pair dismounted, tied their tired beasts, and swiftly raised the white sides of their tent.
"Ee-e-e-e!" it was Julie who gave the shriek. The thicket was swarming with soft, noiseless wings, and a bird with burning eyes had brushed the face of the maiden with its pinion. "What is it, ma maitresse? It has two bright eyes, and it touched my face. Ee-e-e. O! There it is again."