And leading the way, Saul rode presently under a tall cotton wood-tree, and, lifting for me the low-hanging branches of a black-jack, I entered an amphitheatre whose walls were leaves of living green domed in blue, with a river-aisle winding through.

I had not time to take in all the joy of the circle, before it was evidenced that Saul had premeditated the scene.  A fire of twigs sent up a spicy perfume.  A camp-kettle stood beside the fire, and a creature stood beside it.  A yellow savage I should have said, but for my husband’s welcome.  Never in our home library did brother-professor ever receive warmer grasp of hand than I knew this Indian met.  They used words, in speaking, that were unknown to me.  Presently I perceived that an introduction was pending.  That being over, the Indian, Meotona, pointed to a swinging-chair, built for me out of the wealth of grapevine.  It was cushioned with the velvet of the buffalo-grass.

“Tell me how to thank him,” I said to Saul.

Meotona immediately replied,—­“Me no thank,—­him,” pointing to Saul.

I laid my sun-wearied head against the vine, and through half-closed eyes watched in delicious rest the preparations for dinner.  My prairie-horse mistook my comfort for his own.  I found his length of liberty included my chair-cushion, and I gave him tuft after tuft, until something like justice seemed to penetrate into his soul,—­for he heroically refused the last morsel, and wandered away into the next arc of his liberty.

“If all the days are to be like this, how delicious it will be!” I said, as Saul came to me with choice bits of prairie fare.

“Not this,” he said.  “Wait until we hunt the buffalo!—­that wakes up the spirit of man!”

“But I am not a man, and you must excuse me from hunting buffalo,” I could not help saying, as I slid out of the grapevine chair to the grass, beside Saul; for verily, I believed that he had forgotten that I was a woman, and a child of the Puritans.

No more words were spoken until our repast was over.  Meotona gathered up the furniture of our dining-room, and with us returned toward Fort Leavenworth.  The summer sun was setting when we drew near the Missouri.  I thought I had disappointed Saul.  At the last moment I ventured to ask,—­

“Why did you return?  I would have gone on.  I wished it.”

My husband’s face lit into a quick smile, then gloomed as quickly, and he said,—­

“I smile at your simplicity in imagining that I ventured out, without consulting you, for the Rocky Mountains.  I frown to think that my wife believes that I could go into danger with her, and only one right arm to defend her.  No!  I went to-day to try you.  I couldn’t ask you within any four-walled shelter.  I wanted the wide expanse to be your only shield before I could trust you.  I wanted you to face the foe.  Again I ask, Shall we go?  Answer from your own individuality, not mine.”