at quarter of the heavens he
was.

We pursued our way, however, and a devious one it must have been. After
travelling in this way many miles, we came upon an Indian trail, deeply
indented, running at right angles with the course we were pursuing. The
snow had ceased, and, the clouds becoming thinner, we were able to
observe the direction of the sun, and to perceive that the trail ran
north and south. What should we do? Was it safest to pursue our easterly
course, or was it probable that by following this new path we should
fall into the direct one we had been so long seeking? If we decided to
take the trail, should we go north or south? Mr. Kinzie was for the
latter. He was of opinion we were still too far north--somewhere about
the Grand Marais, or Kish-wau-kee. Mr. Kellogg and Plante were for
taking the northerly direction. The latter was positive his bourgeois
had already gone too far south--in fact, that we must now be in the
neighborhood of the Illinois River. Finding himself in the minority, my
husband yielded, and we turned our horses' heads north, much against his
will. After proceeding a few miles, however, he took a sudden
determination. "You may go north, if you please," said he, "but I am
convinced that the other course is right, and I shall face about--follow
who will."

So we wheeled round and rode south again, and many a long and weary mile
did we travel, the monotony of our ride broken only by the querulous
remarks of poor Mr. Kellogg. "I am really afraid we are wrong, Mr.
Kinzie. I feel pretty sure that the young man is right. It looks most
natural to me that we should take a northerly course, and not be
stretching away so far to the south."

To all this, Mr. Kinzie turned a deaf ear. The Frenchmen rode in
silence. They would as soon have thought of cutting off their right hand
as showing opposition to the bourgeois when he had once expressed his
decision. They would never have dreamed of offering an opinion or remark
unless called upon to do so.

The road, which had continued many miles through the prairie, at
length, in winding round a point of woods, brought us suddenly upon an
Indian village. A shout of joy broke from the whole party, but no
answering shout was returned--not even a bark of friendly welcome--as we
galloped up to the wigwams. All was silent as the grave. We rode round
and round, then dismounted and looked into several of the spacious huts.
They had evidently been long deserted. N