negro! Poor devil! where can he have
come from, I wonder?"

Only my head was visible--a thick bush in front of me concealing my
body. The coat of char upon my face was deceiving her.

"No, not a negro," said I, stepping out and discovering my person--"not
a negro, though I have been submitted to the treatment of one."

"Ho! white, red, and black! Mercy on me, what a frightful harlequin!
Ha, ha, ha!"

"My toilet appears to amuse you, fair huntress? I might apologise for
it--since I can assure you it is not my own conception, nor is it to my
taste any more than--"

"You are a white man, then?" said she, interrupting me--at the same time
stepping nearer to examine me.

"I was, yesterday," I replied, turning half round, to give her a sight
of my shoulders, which the Indian artist had left untouched. "To-day, I
am as you see."

"O heavens!" she exclaimed, suddenly changing her manner, "this red? It
is blood! You are wounded, sir? Where is your wound?"

"In several places I am wounded; but not dangerously. They are only
scratches: I have no fear of them."

"Who gave you these wounds?"

"Indians. I have just escaped from them."

"Indians! What Indians?"

"Arapahoes."

"Arapahoes! Where did you encounter them?"

The question was put in a hurried manner, and in a tone that betrayed
excitement.

"On the Huerfano," I replied--"by the Orphan butte. It was the band of
a chief known as the Red-Hand."

"Ha! The Red-Hand on the Huerfano! Stranger! are you sure of this?"

The earnest voice in which the interrogatory was again put somewhat
surprised me. I answered by giving a brief and rapid detail of our
capture, and subsequent treatment--without mentioning the names of my
travelling companions, or stating the object of our expedition. Indeed,
I was not allowed to enter into particulars. I was hurried on by
interpellations from my listener--who, before I could finish the
narrative of my escape, again interrupted me, exclaiming in an excited
manner:

"Red-Hand in the valley of the Huerfano! news for Wa-ka-ra!" After a
pause she hastily inquired: "How many warriors has the Red-Hand with
him?"

"Nearly two hundred."

"Not more than two hundred?"

"No--rather less, I should say."

"It is well--You say you have a horse?"

"My horse is at hand."

"Bring him up, then, and come along with me!"

"But my comrades? I must follow the train, that I may be able to return
and rescue them?"

"Yo