ottonwoods, where the Sioux dead were
lashed; and the girls, glancing toward the trees, suddenly caught a
glimpse of long, wrapped bodies.

Marylyn edged toward her sister. "Oh, I hope it'll be light when we get
here coming back," she whispered, shuddering.

"We won't be alone," answered Dallas, reassuringly.

The coulee was deep and dark at that point, and full of queer shadows.
From the boughs that cradled the braves came uncanny flutterings, as the
wind shook loosened scraps of the sleepers' covering. The dead seemed to
be moving restlessly upon their bier-boards, and waving an imploring
summons to be freed of the thongs that bound them. Overhead was full
cause for fear. Floating on motionless wing, with bare necks craning
hungrily, circled black watchers.

"They say," whispered Marylyn, watching nervously behind, "they say the
Indians are scared to come near these trees, never do till one of 'em
dies. I don't wonder. It gives me the shivers just to see that bunch."

Dallas drew the whip across Betty. "A dead Indian's not dangerous," she
said, smiling. And forgot to ask Marylyn where she had heard the tale.

Six miles were gone. But the way ahead was still long, the brown blotch
at the ridge-top was still only a blotch. And the team was fast tiring.
When Murphy's Throat was reached, Dallas drove out to the left, watered
the thirsty pair at a slough, and ate with Marylyn the long-deferred
breakfast. After that they went at a better pace for a time. Soon,
however, the road became steeper, and Betty slacked up. The sun was
high, now, and unpleasantly warm. So the wise old mule merely humped her
back as Dallas applied the lash, and doggedly refused to increase her
speed.

It was noon when the wagon approached the summit. It did not rest there
a moment. Behind was spread out a wonderful landscape. The Missouri
threaded it quarteringly, the western bluffs walled its farther edge to
the sky. Its eastern boundary was the ridge over which the wagon was
rolling. From this undulating line, the verdant land slipped down and
down and down--to the fantastic turnings of the river. But the girls,
peering back upon it, through a haze that was softly blue, were wholly
indifferent to its beauty. They sought, and in vain, for a remote dot
that might be the shack--the shack they had left at the end of that
unswerving road.

And now they went forward again. The scene on the farther side of the
summit was newer than that on the ot