your lost race," I
entreated.

"Yes, swear," repeated he imperiously.

"No: oh! no, I cannot. Though for your sake," I said, "I will be silent
any reasonable number of years you shall dictate to me."

He gazed sternly on me for a few moments, then said.

"Let it be so. When I have passed away you are absolved from your
oath."

"You will teach me to read the recorded past," I said inquiringly, "and
tell me of the arts now lost, at some future day!"

"It is too late, my days are spent, he said; then rousing himself, he
exclaimed, in a voice that still rings in my ears: 'Son of a
degenerate race, go over this whole continent and there trace the
history of my people. Our monuments are there, and on them are chiseled
our deeds, and though we moulder in the dust, they can never die; they
are imperishable. Go where the summer never ends, where the trees
blossom, still laden with fruit, and there we once were mighty as these
forests, and numerous as the drops in this lake; there read of our
glory--but not of our shame--that was never chiseled in our monumental
pillars; it is here, (placing his hand on his heart) and with _me_ must
die. Go, (said he, waving with his hand towards the path that ascended
the table) go, and leave the last of a mighty race, to die alone. It is
not fitting you should be here: Go? I am called.'"

I obeyed him reluctantly, but I never saw him again.

Chapter Fourth.

Their journey continued. Finding a Prairie. Encamping for the Night.
Singular incident. A Mirage on the Prairie. Alarm in the Camp. The
Prairie discovered to be on fire. Flight to the Sand Hills. Their final
escape. Search for water. Finding a stream. Encampment.

The next day the camp was struck and packed; the oxen, rested and
invigorated by roving over and cropping the rich grasses that grew in
luxuriance along the banks of the river by which they had encamped,
moved with a brisk step along their shady track, while the voices of
the drivers sounded musically, reverberating through the stillness of
the forest. Towards noon they came to one of those singularly
interesting geological features of the west, a _Prairie_. This was
something entirely new to the younger children, who had never been far
from the place where they were born, and it very naturally surprised
them to see such a boundless extent of territory, without a house,
barn, or fence of any kind--nothing but a waving mass of coarse rank
grass.

"Oh! father