ad
promised. All the Indians were so much engaged that they took no notice
of my proceedings; and when every arrangement had been made, I returned
to Piomingo.

Grasping my hand, he exclaimed,--"You are more generous than I deserve;
for when I went to your farm it was with the intention of working you
evil. But after I saw the `Fair Lily,' your sister, I had not the heart
to do her an injury; and instead of remaining and opening the gate to
your enemies, as I had intended, I made my escape. When I was watching
your camp, it was with no treacherous design. I wished to warn you that
the Arrapahas were still advancing, and that their purpose was to occupy
the passes through the mountains, so that they could intercept you and
any other Palefaces who might travel in that direction. They must, by
this time, have carried out that part of their plan, so that I would
advise you and your friends to pass on more to the north, by which means
you may escape them. I have also to tell you that one of your people is
in their hands. They have been carrying him about with them from place
to place; but whether they intend to kill him, as they have done the
other prisoners, I could not learn."

I thanked Piomingo for his information, which, I felt sure, gratitude
had prompted him to give. And, of course, I resolved to urge the chief
to act upon it.

On questioning Piomingo, I was convinced, from the description he gave
of the white man who had been made prisoner, that it must be either
Gideon or Bartle. I had great hopes, at all events, that Uncle Jeff had
escaped from his pursuers; but what had since become of him I could not
conjecture, nor could Piomingo give me any information.

It was now sufficiently dark to allow of the captive making his escape
without being observed. I again cast off the ropes, therefore, and
stole quietly away from the spot. The moment I had gone, he must have
crept away--crouching down, Indian fashion, until he had got to a safe
distance from the camp, when, having first secured the weapons I had
left for him, he must have mounted my horse and galloped off.

The next day had been fixed for the death of the prisoners, so I boldly
told the chief that, taking advantage of his permission, I had set
Piomingo at liberty, and urged him to be equally generous towards the
young squaw.

"My people will complain if they are disappointed," he answered, turning
aside.

I was sorry that I could not see May