She was unconsciously following the trail the Indians had made when they had her a captive.
Had she known this, she would have kept on it, knowing that in a day or so she must come up to her father, if he was trailing her up, as she was sure of.
After riding seven or eight miles, she slackened up the speed of her horse, and let him walk, for the animal had had quite a sharp run.
Soon she dismounted and walked beside him for nearly a mile, patting him on the neck, and feeling very proud when the noble animal rubbed his velvet muzzle against her cheeks, as he was wont to do to Chauncy. He evidently saw in Iola one whom he might, in some future time, call his mistress.
It was while Iola was walking beside her steed that she suddenly branched off from the trail she had been pursuing, though unconsciously. It was well for her afterward that she was walking when she left the trail, as the reader will soon see.
All day long the lovely Donna rode on in what she believed to be the right direction. Just as night came on, she found, to her horror, that she had arrived at the place she had started to ride off from the trail at. She had been riding in a circle all day.
She found plenty of provisions in the bundle which was strapped to the saddle, and made a good supper, despite her situation.
She slept that night on the open prairie, with none to watch over her but her Father in heaven. And yet Iola was not one to be easily frightened.
She could not help wondering, however, whether her next night would be passed in the same way.
Long before the sun arose, she was up and off, eating her scanty breakfast as she rode. She knew that she had kept edging toward the right the day before (and this is natural to one not much accustomed to the open plain where there is hardly any mark to guide one) and to remedy this evil she kept turning a little to the left every now and then.