felt bound to guard by closed lips. Some
instinct of my own higher nature, or some voiceless message from her
personality, told me the line of safety--told me that she would
secretly resent any familiarity she was not free to welcome. She might
ride through the black night beside me, our hands clasped in
friendship, our hearts thrilling with hope. We could understand, could
dream the dream of ages together--and yet, this was not now to be
expressed in words; and there must still remain between us a barrier
blacker than the night. She needed not to tell me this truth--I felt
it; felt it in the purity of her soul, her silence, her perfect trust
in me. For this I knew, then and forever--only by respect could I win
the love of her. This knowledge was restraint enough.

We rested for an hour at midnight, on the banks of a small stream. The
sky had lightened somewhat, and we could perceive the way fairly well
when we again advanced, now traveling through a more open country, a
prairie, interspersed with groves of trees. Daylight overtook us at
the edge of a slough, which bordered a little lake, where in the gray
dawn, Tim, by a lucky shot, managed to kill a crippled duck, which
later furnished us with a meager breakfast. In the security of a
near-by cluster of trees, we ventured to build a fire, and, sitting
about it, discussed whether to remain there, or press on. It was an
ideal spot for a camp, elevated enough to afford a wide view in every
direction. No one could approach unseen, and thus far we had no
evidence that our pursuers were even on our trail. Only the crack of
that single rifle shot the evening before had suggested that we were
being followed--yet, even if this were true, the black hours since
would have prevented any discovery of the direction of our night. Not
even an Indian tracker could have picked up our trail amid that
darkness. So it was decided to remain where we were, and rest.

I need not dwell on the details of our flight. They remain in my
memory in all clearness, each scene distinct, each incident a picture
engraved on the mind. I came to believe in, implicitly rely on, all my
comrades--on the black-eyed, dusky Elsie, emotional and efficient,
whose care-free laugh was contagious, and whose marvelous skill in
cooking only increased our hunger, who knew every wild plant that grew,
and unearthed many a treasure to help out our slim larder from the
forest and prairie soil; on the solem