was needed, and speed in the
last moments would be worth both.

Of course, I did not think to get the captive clear without being
observed and pursued--such an expectation would have been preposterous;
she would be too well watched by the savages--not only by her jailers,
but by the jealous eyes of those rival claimants of her body.

No; on the contrary, I anticipated pursuit--close and eager. It might
be strife; but I trusted to my own swiftness of foot, and to hers--for
well knew I her bold heart and free limb: it was no helpless burden I
should have to bring away.

I trusted to my being able to baffle their pursuit--to keep them back
while she ran forward. For that purpose, I should take with me my knife
and revolvers--I trusted to these, and much to chance, or, perhaps, I
should rather say, to God. My cause was good--my heart firm and
hopeful.

Other precautions I intended to take: horses ready as near as they might
be brought; men also ready in their saddles, rifle in hand--ready for
fight, or flight.

Such was the enterprise upon which I was resolved. Success or death was
staked upon the issue. If not successful, I cared not to survive it.

CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR.

"PAINTING INJUN."

Withal, I was not reckless. If not sanguine, I was far from despondent;
and as I continued to dwell upon it, the prospect seemed to brighten,
and success to appear less problematical.

One of the chief difficulties I should have to encounter would be
_getting into_ the camp. Once inside the lines--that is, among the
camp-fires and tents, if there should be any--I should be comparatively
safe. This I knew from experience; for it would not be my first visit
to an encampment of prairie-Indians. Even in their midst, mingling with
the savages themselves, and under the light of their glaring fires, I
should be less exposed to the danger of detection than while attempting
to cross their lines. First, I should have to pass the outlying
pickets: then within these the horse-guards; and within these, again,
the horses themselves!

You may smile when I assert that the last was to me a source of
apprehension as great as either of the others. An Indian horse is a
sentinel not to be despised. He is as much the enemy of the white man
as his master; and partly from fear, and partly from actual antipathy,
he will not permit the former to approach him. The human watcher may be
negligent--may sleep upon his post--the horse neve