Professor Russell gazed passively at the rolled scrap for a time, then the muscles of his face began to twitch slightly, his eyes became vacant and partly closed; there was a convulsive movement of his shoulders, a long-drawn sigh, and he began to speak.
“I can see a wilder scene than this, a country as far as the eye can reach, a vast table-land, dotted here and there with adobe houses and their contiguous cotton-wood groves of one or two years’ growth. One of these houses stands facing south, and in the doorway I can see a woman. She is looking anxiously westward, shading her face with her hand. She has on a dress of some dark material, partly covered with a kitchen apron. She has dark hair and—ah, now she has removed her hand; she looks like a lady in this room, except that she is taller, and her hair, a shade lighter, is worn in braids instead of curls. Her gray eyes have an anxious look in them. A number of ponies are corralled near the house. What is she looking at?�
The Professor spoke slowly, as if studying the scene of his clairvoyant vision. Nathan and Lissa exchanged glances, while Donald rolled up his eyes with a concealed affectation of awe. Squire Bartram appeared interested, and glanced toward Lissa inquiringly, while his wife, good soul, gazed sternly and forbiddingly at the Professor as though she believed him in league with his Satanic majesty, and the ghosts of her Puritan forefathers were warning her against him.
Meanwhile the face of the man was working strangely.
“The house has disappeared from my vision,� he cried, “and I can see a still wilder country, through which runs a placid, shining river. A large party of Indians are cantering across the prairie, mounted on round, sleek-looking mustangs. With them is a white man, young and handsome, with light, flowing hair, and fearless blue eyes. He is dressed in hunting costume, with wide-brimmed hat, and he rides a white pony with an army saddle and large stirrups. There is a coil of rope at his saddle bow and a couple of pistols and a hatchet in his belt. He carries also a rifle.
“The ground over which they are traveling is torn and trampled as if an army had lately traversed it, and—ah, yes, I see, away in the west, a herd of buffalo looking like a great black cloud against the sky, and showing distinctly against the red of the setting sun behind it. But, look, they have turned their course toward the south and are running their horses at full speed! They turn in their saddles and look northward. I see! There is another party coming from that direction.�
The Professor looked fixedly a moment and continued:
“They are Indians, also; a larger band, and hideously painted. The others are spurring their horses toward the river to escape this hostile band, who have seen them, and like the wind are rushing down upon them. Their horses are more fleet, they are gaining upon them—they lift their rifles and shoot! Good! Their shots do not reach them. The white man rises in his stirrups and returns the fire. The Indians of his party follow his example. Their rifles have longer range and their shots tell. Several saddles of the pursuing party are empty.�
The man spoke eagerly now. His restless gray eyes kindled, and his face glowed with animation. His story had produced a like effect upon his listeners, all of whom showed more or less excitement.
Lissa was pale, her large, dark eyes fixed intently upon the speaker, while her small hands gripped each other tightly in her lap. Squire Bartram peered over his spectacles and rubbed one palm upon the other, a habit he had when deeply moved. Donald looked from one to another quizzingly, but said nothing.