Our friends had nearly finished their lunch, when something—­she never could tell what—­caused Corona to look behind her.  Then she shrieked!  All looked to see the cause of her sudden fright.

There stood a group of Indians, with blankets around their forms, and gleaming tomahawks about their shoulders.

“Pawnees—­friendly.  Don’t be afraid.  Give them something to eat,” said the captain, in a low tone, addressing the first part of his conversation to Corona and the last part to Mrs. Neville.

But Corona had never seen an Indian in her life, and could not at once get over her panic caused by the sight of those bare, keen-edged axes gleaming in the sun.

Captain Neville spoke to them in their native tongue, and they replied.  The conversation that ensued was quite unintelligible to Clarence and Corona, but not to Mrs. Neville, who beckoned to two squaws who stood humbly in the rear of the braves.  They were both clothed in short, rude, blue cotton skirts, with blankets over their shoulders.  The elder squaw carried a pack on her back; the younger one carried a baby snugly in a hood made of the loop of her blanket at the back of her neck.

They both approached the ladies, chattering as they came; the elder one threw down her pack on the grass and began to open it, and display a number of dressed raccoon skins stretched upon sticks, and by gibbering and gesticulations expressed her wish to sell them.

Neither of the ladies wished to buy; but Mrs. Neville give her loaves of bread and junks of dried beef from the hampers on the grass, and Corona gave her money.

She put the money in a little fur pouch she carried at her belt, and she packed the bread and beef in the bundle with the highly flavored raccoon skins.  She was not fastidious.

While Mrs. Neville and Corona were occupied with the squaw, Captain Neville and Mr. Clarence had been feasting the braves, and the attendants had been washing dishes, repacking hampers, and reloading wagons for a fresh start.

When all was ready the wayfarers took leave of the Indians and re-entered their conveyances and resumed their route, leaving the savages still feasting on the fragments that remained.

It was now two o’clock in the afternoon, as the long trail of carryalls and army wagons passed up from the beautiful valley and out upon the vast prairie that still rolled on before them in hills and hollows of gold and bronze, blazing under the bright autumnal sun.

Men and women, mules and horses, had all been rested and refreshed by their mid-day halt and repast.

The people, however, seemed less inclined to observe and converse than in the forenoon.

Even Clarence saw more than one flock of birds sail over their heads, and made no sign; saw a herd of deer stand and gaze, and said not a word.

At length Clarence took out his cigar and lit it, and as he smoked he watched the descending sun until it sank below the horizon and sent up the most singular after-glow that Clarence had ever seen—­a shower of sparks and needle-like flames from the edge of the prairie immediately under the horizon.