now the outcome of it, as we
were sure it concerned father. And it did. His plea of self-defense
was not acceptable to them, they said, and we shivered as we saw such
bitterness on the men's faces as seemed sure would lead to lynching.
Father saw it, but he was no coward. Baring his neck, he stepped
forward, and proudly said, 'Come on, gentlemen!' No one moved, and
presently he was told that he must leave the party, an exile--must go
out in the wilderness alone without food or weapons. It was a cruel
sentence, for it might result either in starvation or in murder by the
Indians, and it is no wonder that mother was beside herself with
fright, that we children knew not what to do or where to turn for
help. Father heard the sentence in silence, then facing the group of
old-time friends, with brave eyes, he said: 'I will not go. My act was
one of self-defense, and as such is justified before God and man.'

"Meanwhile, my mother had been thinking, as she told me later, and she
begged father to accept the sentence and leave the party, thinking it
would be less dangerous than to remain among men who had become his
enemies. He firmly refused until she pleaded that the whole party were
now practically destitute of food, and if he remained, as an outcast,
he would be obliged to see his children starve, while by going he
might be able to meet them with food which he had procured somewhere.
After a fearful struggle with his own desires, father consented, but
not until the men of the party had promised to care for his innocent
wife and children. Then, after he had held mother in his arms for a
long agonized moment, he turned to me, and I forced my eyes to meet
his with such fearless trust that he looked less despairing as he
picked up Patty for a last hug and gripped the boys with an emotion
too deep for any words; then he went off, an exile in the desert.

"I had no idea what I was going to do about it, but I knew I must do
something. Through the long hours of the day, while I was busy
soothing and comforting mother, who felt it keenly that we were left
as much alone as if we were lepers, I was thinking busily. Our wagon
was drawn up apart from the others, and we ate our scanty evening meal
in silence. Milt Elliott and some others tried to talk with us, and
show their friendliness, but mother would only answer in monosyllables
and commanded the children to do the same. We were an utterly
desolate, frightened group as darkness fell