of
which up to that hour they had been in happy ignorance--reconciled them
to our purpose; and thenceforward they picked up their feet with a
pleasing rapidity. Both preferred risking the skin of their backs to
losing that of their heads; but of the former they had now less fear:
since I had promised to _disguise_ them, before bringing them face to
face with the troopers of the escort.

Notwithstanding our increased strength, we travelled with as much
caution as ever: for the danger had augmented in proportion. We made
most way under the friendly shadow of night--sometimes by the light of
the moon--and only by day, when we could discover no Indian sign in our
neighbourhood. Only two of us could ride at a time--the other two
taking it afoot; but in this way a journey can be made almost as well,
as when each has a horse to himself. Our pack-animals gave us little
trouble: as the continued travel had long since trained them to follow
in file, and without requiring to be led. We refrained from making
fires, where the ground was unfavourable. Only when we could choose our
camp in the midst of a timbered thicket, or down in the secluded depth
of some rocky ravine, did we risk kindling fires; and them we
extinguished as soon as they had served the purposes of our simple
_cuisine_. These precautions, drawn from experience, were absolutely
necessary in a passage across the prairies--at least by a party so small
as ours. Perhaps had we continued them, we might have escaped a
misfortune that soon after befell us; and the tale of which is now to be
told.

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

THE ABANDONED BOUQUET.

Having passed Bent's Fort--of wide celebrity in trapper lore--whilom the
scene of many a wild revel of the "mountain-men," but now abandoned and
in ruins--we arrived at the confluence of the Huerfano. As we expected,
the trace turned up the valley of this latter stream--thus deciding the
route taken by the caravan.

We rode on through a forest of grand cotton-woods and willows; and at
about seven miles distant from the mouth of the Huerfano river, reached
a point, where the caravan had crossed over to its left bank. On the
other side, we could see the ground of their encampment of the night
before. We could tell it by the fresh traces of animals and waggons--
debris of the morning's repast--and half-burnt faggots of the tires that
had cooked it, still sending up their clouds of oozing smoke.

The stream at this p