The beginning of the end—Deeper into the mountains—The western slope—On the edge of the snow—The golden valley—It is all mine—Night thoughts—Last words—I see him no more.
Two days passed away. They had been days of peace and rest. No further attempt had been made to molest us. Awed by the terrible fate of so many of their bravest men and leaders, who had lost their lives on the raft over the cataract, the Sircies had abandoned the valley and returned to their own country.
When the fact of their departure was fully ascertained by the scout, we moved out again to the meadow by the lake; but before we quitted the island Red Cloud had a long conversation with me regarding our future movements. Seated by his father’s grave on the evening next but one after the events recorded in the last chapter had taken place, he began by telling me that the object of his life was now achieved, and that henceforth he was careless as to what might happen to him, or whither he would go. He would probably turn his face towards the south again, and join some scattered remnant of his tribe at the headwaters of the Platte, or in the country of the Yellowstone.
I told him that it was all the same to me which way he turned his steps; I was ready to follow him.
But he replied that it must not be. Already his companionship, he said, had cost me heavy. My faithful friend had lost his life, my own had often been in hazard. He had still many enemies. The Sircies, the Bloods, the Blackfeet, and the Peaginoos, would all bear to him in future an enmity, not the less active because it was based upon wrongs done to him by them in the first instance. For himself, it mattered little now what his enemies might do; his father’s spirit could rest in peace. But for me it was different. I had been a true brother to him; he could no longer lead me into danger. There was yet one place to which we would travel on the same road, and when that place was reached we would part.
Such was the substance of what he said to me.
It is needless to say that I felt terribly cast down by this threatened ending of our companionship. It seemed impossible to think of life without Red Cloud. True, only a year had elapsed since he and I had met, but that year had been equal to five. From him I had learnt all I knew about the prairie and its wild things. Would it be possible for me now to face its chances and its trials alone? And where else could I go? I had literally no home.
This wild life, while it taught the lessons of bravery, hardihood, endurance, activity, and energy, did not bring worldly wealth to those who followed it. I had come to the prairie poor. I would leave it even poorer still. As these thoughts crowded upon me, my face no doubt betrayed to the Sioux their presence. He spoke in a cheerier tone,—
“Our parting time,” he said, “has not yet come. Wait until it is at hand, and the path you will have to follow will be clearer to you.”