auty, it was quite a different matter. She had become
the wife of a Shoshonie brave. It is true, he had another wife, of
older date than the one in question; who, therefore, took command in his
household, and treated his new spouse as a slave; but the latter was
the wife of his last fancy, his latest caprice; and was precious in his
eyes. All attempt to bargain with him, therefore, was useless; the
very proposition was repulsed with anger and disdain. The spirit of
the trapper was roused, his pride was piqued as well as his passion. He
endeavored to prevail upon his quondam mistress to elope with him. His
horses were fleet, the winter nights were long and dark, before daylight
they would be beyond the reach of pursuit; and once at the encampment
in Green River Valley, they might set the whole band of Shoshonies at
defiance.

The Indian girl listened and longed. Her heart yearned after the ease
and splendor of condition of a trapper's bride, and throbbed to be free
from the capricious control of the premier squaw; but she dreaded the
failure of the plan, and the fury of a Shoshonie husband. They parted;
the Indian girl in tears, and the madcap trapper more than ever, with
his thwarted passion.

Their interviews had, probably, been detected, and the jealousy of
the Shoshonie brave aroused: a clamor of angry voices was heard in his
lodge, with the sound of blows, and of female weeping and lamenting. At
night, as the trapper lay tossing on his pallet, a soft voice whispered
at the door of his lodge. His mistress stood trembling before him. She
was ready to follow whithersoever he should lead.

In an instant he was up and out. He had two prime horses, sure and swift
of foot, and of great wind. With stealthy quiet, they were brought up
and saddled; and in a few moments he and his prize were careering over
the snow, with which the whole country was covered. In the eagerness of
escape, they had made no provision for their journey; days must elapse
before they could reach their haven of safety, and mountains and
prairies be traversed, wrapped in all the desolation of winter. For the
present, however they thought of nothing but flight; urging their horses
forward over the dreary wastes, and fancying, in the howling of every
blast, they heard the yell of the pursuer.

At early dawn, the Shoshonie became aware of his loss. Mounting his
swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit. He soon found the trail of
the fugitives, and spur