s the work of a few
minutes; this done, I began to bethink me of _where I was going_. Back
to the rancheria, of course!

That was the natural reply to such a question; but there was another far
less easily answered: How was I to find the way?

My design of the previous night--to follow back my own trail--was no
longer practicable. _The rain had effaced the tracks_! I remembered
that I had passed over wide stretches of light dusty soil, where the
hoof scarcely impressed itself. I remembered that the rain had been of
that character known as "planet showers," with large heavy drops, that,
in such places, must have blotted out every trace of the trail. To
follow the "back-track" was no longer possible.

I had not before thought of this difficulty; and now, that it presented
itself to my mind, it was accompanied by a new feeling of dread. I felt
that _I was lost_!

As you sit in your easy-chair, you may fancy that this is a mere
bagatelle--a little bewilderment that one may easily escape from who has
a good horse between his thighs. It is only to strike boldly out, and
by riding on _in a straight line_, you must in time arrive _somewhere_.

No doubt, that is your idea; but permit me to inform you that the
success of such a course depends very much upon circumstances. It would
indeed be trusting to blind chance. You might arrive "somewhere," and
that somewhere might be the very point from which you had started!

Do you fancy you can ride ten miles in a direct line over a prairie,
without a single object to guide you?

Be undeceived, then; you cannot!

The best mounted men have perished under such circumstances. It may
take days to escape out of a fifty-mile prairie, and days bring death.
Hunger and thirst soon gain strength and agony--the sooner that you know
you have not the wherewith to satisfy the one, nor quench the other.
Besides, there is in your very loneliness a feeling of bewilderment,
painful to an extreme degree, and from which only the oldest prairie-men
are free. Your senses lose half their power, your energy is diminished,
and your resolves become weak and vacillating. You feel doubtful at
each step, as to whether you be following the right path, and are ready
at every moment to turn into another. Believe me, it is a fearful thing
to be alone when lost upon the prairies!

I felt this keenly enough. I had been on the great plains before, but
it was the first time I had the misfortune to wa