“I will go.”

It was the spirit that spoke; for neither heart nor flesh could have braved the fancied dangers.

A week went by, and every moment of the time Saul was elate and busy, providing for me in every possible way, devising comforts that exceeded my imagination, remembering every idiosyncrasy that I had given expression to in his hearing.  Under the guard of the United States mail, we left Fort Leavenworth.  Meotona, the yellow savage, went with us.  Oh, the delight of those days! it comes to me now, and I almost forget that I am alone on the Big Blue, and that those hours have gone down among “the froth and rainbows” of the past, bearing with them a part of my life.  There were nights when I was afloat in the bark of my spirit, and wandering up and on, until I met Half-Way Angels that bade me back to Earth; and then I would wander away into dreams, watched by the stars and Saul,—­for in those first days he never wearied in his care.  By day I wandered through a garden of flowers untended by man, whose only keepers were butterflies and birds.  Indian faces and forms no longer made me tremble.  I grew to see beauty in them, as they dashed by the train, intent on the hunt.

We encamped beside Stranger Creek, on the banks of the Wakarusa, and on the Great Divide separating the Osage from the Wakarusa Valley.

After we left Council Grove, Meotona, I noticed, was on the watch, constantly peering off into the illimitable distance.  One day I learned the cause.  An exclamation from the Indian led me to look at him.  For once, fire flashed out of his eyes,—­he had forgotten himself.  He was in ecstasy as he saw a party advancing over the prairie.

“Here they come!  Now for the heart of the wilderness!” exclaimed my husband, as they rode up.

“We are not going away from the guard?” I ventured to suggest, as chief after chief came up.  I knew them in their wild orders, having by this time learned something of Indian customs.  They were equipped for the Plains, and among their number I distinguished two white men.

“I know them,—­they are safe and true, Lucy,—­fear nothing!” whispered Saul close to my whitening cheek; and afterwards we turned aside from the Santa Fe trail to the north of the American Desert.

My husband did not leave me for an instant that afternoon; and I, simple-minded woman, tried to look as happy—­well, as a woman and a professor’s wife could look under the circumstances.  The wings of my tent that night were spread to the breeze that swept low and cool across the Divide.

The next day we came to the lodges of the Indians.  Swarthy-faced girls and women came to greet us.  It was evident that many of them had never before seen a white woman.  As evening came on, I noticed in one group outside the principal lodge an unusual amount of grimace that was incomprehensible, until, very timidly, a little girl left the crowd.  Half-way toward me she stopped and turned back, but again the