"It was a long time before I fairly regained my senses. For nearly a month I had been like a maniac, and the Indians had protected me from the malice of the renegade. This superstition alone saved my father. We were regarded as sacred beings.
"But then, when my reason returned, I was again subject to the persecution of the renegade—Creeping Snake, as the Indians called him. I appealed to the chief, who could both speak and understand English, though but imperfectly, for protection against the wretch. I believe that he pitied me, but he dared not interfere. By the laws of the tribe, I belonged wholly to the renegade.
"The end came sooner than I expected. One day the renegade came to the lodge that had been given father and I, and one glance at his flushed face and bloodshot eyes told me my peril. He was intoxicated, and his worst passions were fully aroused.
"I shrunk behind father in fear and trembling. The renegade advanced, with a horrible curse, and struck father, ordering him to stand aside. You have seen him—you know how very strong he is; and then he was insane.
"It was all over in a breath, almost. A brief, horrible struggle—then the renegade lay upon the lodge floor, quivering, dead! The blood was streaming from his mouth and nostrils. His neck was broken.
"The chief had witnessed it all, but had not time to interfere, before all was over. He seemed frightfully angered and had I not clung to his knees, pleading piteously, I believe he would have killed father. As it was, he had time to reflect that a madman was not accountable for his acts.
"A council was held, and father tried for the deed. But the fact of his madness saved him. And yet he seemed to realize that he was in danger, though he hid his feelings from all save me.
"That night—a dark and stormy one—we left the village, passing through it undiscovered. By daylight we were far away, lost amidst the wild mountains. The beating rain had obliterated our tracks, and if the Indians sought for us it was without success.
"For days we lay hid during the day, traveling at night, trying to find some way to civilization, but in vain. We nearly starved to death. But by a chance—or rather providence—father killed a wounded antelope that we found in a deep valley. On this we lived for several days.
"Father seemed to have forgotten his desire to reach his fellow-men, and appeared contented with this wild life. We were living in a little den or cave in the rocks; not this one—but another miles away.