rday. An
Indian village, in its disorderly march, is scattered over the prairie,
often to the width of full half a mile; so that its trail is nowhere
clearly marked, and the task of following it is made doubly wearisome
and difficult. By good fortune plenty of large ant-hills, a yard or more
in diameter, were scattered over the plain, and these were frequently
broken by the footprints of men and horses, and marked by traces of the
lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the prickly-pear, also bruised from
the same causes, helped a little to guide us; so inch by inch we moved
along. Often we lost the trail altogether, and then would recover it
again, but late in the afternoon we found ourselves totally at fault.
We stood alone without clew to guide us. The broken plain expanded
for league after league around us, and in front the long dark ridge of
mountains was stretching from north to south. Mount Laramie, a little
on our right, towered high above the rest and from a dark valley just
beyond one of its lower declivities, we discerned volumes of white smoke
slowly rolling up into the clear air.

"I think," said Raymond, "some Indians must be there. Perhaps we
had better go." But this plan was not rashly to be adopted, and we
determined still to continue our search after the lost trail. Our good
stars prompted us to this decision, for we afterward had reason to
believe, from information given us by the Indians, that the smoke was
raised as a decoy by a Crow war party.

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or water nearer than the
foot of the mountains. So thither we turned, directing our course toward
the point where Laramie Creek issues forth upon the prairie. When we
reached it the bare tops of the mountains were still brightened with
sunshine. The little river was breaking with a vehement and angry
current from its dark prison. There was something in the near vicinity
of the mountains, in the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfully
cheering and exhilarating; for although once as familiar as home itself,
they had been for months strangers to my experience. There was a rich
grass-plot by the river's bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would
effectually screen ourselves and our fire from the sight of wandering
Indians. Here among the grass I observed numerous circles of large
stones, which, as Raymond said, were traces of a Dakota winter
encampment. We lay down and did not awake till the sun was up. A large
rock p