to her finally, putting my hand on the pommel
of her saddle as we halted, "it's no use. We might as well admit it; we
are lost."

CHAPTER XXV

CLEAVING ONLY UNTO HER.

She made no great outcry. I saw her bend her face forward into her
hands.

"What shall we do?" she asked at length.

"I do not know," said I to her soberly; "but since there is water here
and a little shelter, it is my belief that we ought to stop here for the
night."

She looked out across the gray monotony that surrounded us, toward the
horizon now grown implacable and ominous. Her eyes were wide, and
evidently she was pondering matters in her mind. At last she turned to
me and held out her hands for me to assist her in dismounting.

"John Cowles, _of Virginia_," she said, "I am sorry we are lost."

I could make no answer, save to vow silently that if I lived she must be
returned safely to her home, unhurt body and soul. I dared not ponder on
conventions in a case so desperate as I knew ours yet might be. Silently
I unsaddled the horse and hobbled it securely as I might with the bridle
rein. Then I spread the saddle blanket for her to sit upon, and hurried
about for Plains fuel. Water we drank from my hat, and were somewhat
refreshed. Now we had food and water. We needed fire. But this, when I
came to fumble in my pockets, seemed at first impossible, for I found
not a match.

"I was afraid of that," she said, catching the meaning of my look. "What
shall we do? We shall starve!"

"Not in the least," said I, stoutly. "We are good Indians enough to make
a fire, I hope."

In my sheath was a heavy hunting knife; and now, searching about us on
the side of the coulee bank, I found several flints, hard and white.
Then I tore out a bit of my coat lining and moistened it a trifle, and
saturated it with powder from my flask, rubbed in until it all was dry.
This niter-soaked fabric I thought might serve as tinder for the spark.
So then I struck flint and steel, and got the strange spark, hidden in
the cold stone ages and ages there on the Plains; and presently the
spark was a little flame, and then a good fire, and so we were more
comfortable.

We roasted meat now, flat on the coals, the best we might, and so we
ate, with no salt to aid us. The girl became a trifle more cheerful,
though still distant and quiet. If I rose to leave the fire for an
instant, I saw her eyes following me all the time. I knew her fears,
though she did not complai