for any one, I was keen to
serve her. Lost Sister had fashioned a rude litter out of rawhide and two
saplings, slack between the poles so the girl could not roll out. To my
surprise she stepped between the saplings at the forward end and called on
me to pick up the other end and march. I considered it to be a man's work,
but she made nothing of it, and never called a halt that she might rest.

In the morning the hunters brought in some deer-meat and turkeys, and we
camped long enough to eat. Once more Ward endeavored to prevail upon the
chief to put me out of the way. He played upon Black Hoof's superstitions
very cunningly by declaring the war-medicine would be very weak until I
was killed. The chief was impressed, else he never would have come to
stare at me.

It happened, however, that Patricia was delirious, and it was my hand on
her head that seemed to quiet her. Lost Sister told a noble lie by
volunteering the information that it was my presence that kept the girl
quiet. Black Hoof and his braves had a great fear of the girl when she
began her rambling talk. They believed she was surrounded by ghosts and
talking with them. So Ward's request was refused, and stern orders were
given that I should not be harmed. When the home villages were reached, he
added, I might be burned.

When we made our second camp on the Kanawha I called Black Hoof to me. I
had been staked out in spread-eagle fashion and my guards had placed
saplings across my body and were preparing to lie down on the ends at each
side of me. I assured the chief there was no danger of my running away, as
my medicine would wither and die, did I forsake the great manito's child;
and I asked him to relieve me of the cords and saplings. He told the
warriors to omit the cords.

The next time we halted to snatch a few hours' sleep he ordered that no
more saplings be placed across me, that it would be sufficient to tie my
ankles and wrists. This was a great relief. During this portion of the
march the girl seemed oblivious to her surroundings, also to the fact that
she was a captive. She showed a strong preference for Lost Sister's
company, and would glance about worriedly if the young woman left her
sight.

So it devolved on the two of us, both white, to care for her. There were
times when she babbled of faraway scenes, of Williamsburg and her old
home, of the streets of Norfolk and Richmond. She talked with those she
had known as children. When in this con