his abstractions became almost trance-like, I think the superstition of
the Indians was touched. To them, a maniac is a messenger of the Great
Spirit; and Hamilton's strange ways must have impressed them, for they
no longer put exorbitant values on their peltries.

After the day's trading Eric would come to my hut. Pacing the cramped
place for hours, wild-eyed and silent, he would abruptly dash into the
darkness of the night like one on the verge of madness. Thereupon, the
taciturn, grave-faced La Robe Noire, tapping his forehead significantly,
would look with meaning towards Little Fellow; and I would slip out some
distance behind to see that Hamilton did himself no harm while the
paroxysm lasted. So absorbed was he in his own gloom, for days he would
not utter a syllable. The storm that had gathered would then discharge
its strength in an outburst of incoherent ravings, which usually ended
in Hamilton's illness and my watching over him night and day, keeping
firearms out of reach. I have never seen--and hope I never may--any
other being age so swiftly and perceptibly. I had attributed his worn
appearance in Fort Douglas to the cannon accident and trusted the
natural robustness of his constitution would throw off the apparent
languor; but as autumn wore into winter, there were more gray hairs on
his temple, deeper lines furrowed his face and the erect shoulders began
to bow.

When days slipped into weeks and weeks into months without the slightest
inkling of Miriam's whereabouts to set at rest the fear that my rash
pursuit had caused her death, I myself grew utterly despondent. Like all
who embark on daring ventures, I had not counted on continuous
frustration. The idea that I might waste a lifetime in the wilderness
without accomplishing anything had never entered my mind. Week after
week, the scouts dispatched in every direction came back without one
word of the fugitives, and I began to imagine my association with
Hamilton had been unfortunate for us both. This added to despair the
bitterness of regret.

The winter was unusually mild, and less game came to the Missouri from
the mountains and bad lands than in severe seasons. By February, we were
on short rations. Two meals a day, with cat-fish for meat and dried
skins in soup by way of variety, made up our regular fare for
mid-winter. The frequent absence of my two Indians, scouring the region
for the Sioux, left me to do my own fishing; and fishing with bare han