Once more I devoured the welcome words; but my heart grew heavy as I
pondered over them. What had caused her to break off so abruptly? What
was it her intention to have said? Of what was she in fear? It was
thinking about this that caused the heaviness upon my heart and forced
me to give way to horrid imaginings.

Naturally my thoughts reverted to her captors; naturally I reflected
upon the character of the prairie savage--so different from that of the
forest Indian, opposite as is the aspect of their homes--and perhaps
influenced by this very cause, though there are many others. Climate--
contact with Spanish civilisation, so distinct from Saxon--the horse--
conquest over white foes--concubinage with white and beautiful women,
the daughters of the race of Cortez: all these have combined to produce
in the southern Indian a spiritual existence that more resembles
Andalusia than England--more like Mexico than Boston or New York.

Psychologically speaking, there is not so much difference between Paris
and the prairies--between the _habitat_ of the Bal Mabille and the
horse-Indian of the plains. No cold ascetic this--no romantic savage,
alike celebrated for silence and continence--but a true voluptuary, gay
of thought and free of tongue--amorous, salacious, immoral. In nine
cases out of ten, the young Comanche is a boastful Lothario as any
_flaneur_ that may be met upon the Boulevards; the old, a lustful
sinner--women the idol of both. Women is the constant theme of their
conversation, their motive for every act. For these they throw the
prairie dice; for these they race their swift mustangs. To win them,
they paint in hideous guise; to buy them, they steal horses; to capture
them, they go to war!

And yet, with all their wanton love, they are true tyrants to the sex.
Wife they have none--for it would be sheer sacrilege to apply this noble
title to the "squaw" of a Comanche. Mistress is scarcely a fitter
term--rather say _slave_. Hers is a hard lot indeed; hers it is to hew
the wood and draw the water; to strike the tent and pitch it; to load
the horse and pack the dog; to grain the skin and cure the meat; to
plant the maize, the melon, squash; to hoe and reap them; to wait
obsequious on her lounging lord, anticipate his whim or wish, be true to
him, else _lose her ears or nose_--for such horrid forfeiture is, by
Comanche custom, the punishment of conjugal infidelity!

But hard as is the lot of the native wi