The Sioux are a great and warlike tribe, are they not?" asked
Albert.

"The greatest and most warlike west of the Mississippi," replied
Dick. "I understand that they are really a group of closely
related tribes and can put thousands of warriors in the field."

"Bright Sun, I suppose, is with them?"

"Yes, I suppose so. He is an Indian, a Sioux, no matter if he
was at white schools and for years with white people. He must
feel for his own, just as you and I, Al, feel for our own race."

They wandered three or four more days across the plains, and were
still without sign of white man or red. They experienced no
hardship. Water was plentiful. Game was to be had for the
stalking and life, had they been hunting or exploring, would have
been pleasant; but both felt a sense of disappointment--they
never came to anything. The expanse of plains was boundless, the
loneliness became overpowering. They had not the remotest idea
whether they were traveling toward any white settlement. Human
life seemed to shun them.

"Dick," said Albert one day, "do you remember the story of the
Flying Dutchman, how he kept trying for years to round the Cape
of Storms, and couldn't do it? I wonder if some such penalty is
put on us, and if so, what for?"

The thought lodged in the minds of both. Oppressed by long and
fruitless wanderings, they began to have a superstition that they
were to continue them forever. They knew that it was unreasonable,
but it clung, nevertheless. There were the rolling plains, the
high, brassy sky, and the clear line of the horizon on all sides,
with nothing that savored of human life between.

They had hoped for an emigrant train, or a wandering band of
hunters, or possibly a troop of cavalry, but days passed and they
met none. Still the same high, brassy sky, still the same
unbroken horizons. The plains increased in beauty. There was a
fine, delicate shade of green on the buffalo grass, and wonderful
little flowers peeped shy heads just above the earth, but Dick
and Albert took little notice of either. They had sunk into an
uncommon depression. The terrible superstition that they were to
wander forever was strengthening its hold upon them, despite
every effort of will and reason. In the hope of better success
they changed their course two or three times, continuing in each
case several days in that direction before the next change was
made.

"We've traveled around so much now," said Albert