"Ah! I know you are afraid of nothing. Yet harm might happen to you; and I should not like you to suffer from an accident which comes upon you by saving my life."
"Don't think of it then. I live out-of-doors. I've slept a hundred nights on the open prairie as many miles from any white man. Good-by, little girl. I'm off after them buffaloes. I'll have the satisfaction of killing two or three of them in return for the fright they gave you; and I may find my horse quicker by following 'em up. Tell your people I've concluded to go after 'em. If I have good luck, I'll reach your camp yet to-night." So saying, Nat Wolfe swung his rifle to his shoulder, leaped down the bank, and started off with long strides across the lower plain.
An hour's hurried labor sufficed to repair the damaged wagon and replace the load; the emigrant train resumed its creeping pace, its weary company finding something new to think and talk about in the appearance of the hunter among them and the succeeding adventure. As it grew dark, they kept a sharp look-out, having examined their fire-arms and put them in order, the statement of Nat as to Indians in the vicinity giving them some uneasiness.
A new moon, sinking in the western sky, threw a melancholy light over the wide desert, enabling the drivers to keep the trail and push on for the water which they were assured was not far away. The heat of the day gave place to chilling winds, causing the wife and child of Timothy Wright to shrink down to the bottom of the wagon and wrap themselves in blankets. But Elizabeth sat by her uncle's side, hugging her shawl close about her, and looking out at the moon with a tired, home-sick face.
"I guess you wish you was back to Missoury," he said, looking around at her, and speaking as if her looks were a reproach to himself.
"I don't know, uncle. I didn't like Missouri very well, either."
"It was unlucky, our settling where the fever and ague was the thickest. I'd a' done well there, if we hadn't been sick so much. And then Kansas was a poorly country whar' we tried it—the drought just discouraged me about that. It's mighty onpleasant for a young thing like you to be jolting along away out to Pike's Peak. But if we once get there, the worst'll be over; we'll see good times. You shall have a silk frock this time next year, Lizzie."
"I hope the gold will come as easy as you think, uncle. Those people whom we met, day before yesterday, coming back from the mines, didn't tell us much to brighten up our spirits."
"Well, I will say I was rather set back by their story. 'Twon't do any good to get discouraged now, though: we haven't provisions enough to carry us back, nor money to buy 'em. We must go ahead and make the best of it. Some folks may have better luck than others. I expect we shall just pick up the biggest kind of nuggets."
"You say you're not one of the lucky kind," she answered, smiling forlornly.