In the morning Fred Wilder set out to seek for the trail of his companions; but, after a long and careful search, he was unable to find it, and he abandoned the quest in despair. As he had seen or heard nothing of the Blackfeet, he concluded that they had given up the pursuit, and had returned to their village.
The disappearance of the Blackfoot and Flora Robinette was not incomprehensible to him, for it was very likely that he had lost the trail; but he could not help fearing that it was to be attributed to some other cause. It was possible that White Shield had been troubled in conscience concerning the manner in which he had left his tribe, and that he might have gone back to meet the pursuers, hoping to make peace with them by delivering Flora to Good Ax. It was possible, also, that he might have taken a fancy to the fair prize, and that he might have determined to secure her for himself, thus cheating his white brother, as well as his tribe.
Fred Wilder’s manly heart made him reject these unworthy suspicions as fast as they arose in his mind. He could not believe that the Indian, who had sworn brotherhood to him, and who had so thoroughly proved his friendship, would so easily turn traitor. In fact, he felt sure that he could trust him, whatever appearances might be against him. The probability was, Wilder thought, that he had lost their trail, which must lead direct to Mr. Robinette’s rendezvous. Still, it seemed strange that they had not waited for him, or tried to find him, as he supposed they might easily have done.
Stifling his fears as well as he could, he rode toward the south, shaping his course for the rendezvous, where he hoped to find his missing companions.
It was a long journey, and there was not a little peril connected with it; but, by the use of vigilance and caution, he contrived to keep clear of any predatory bands of Indians, and the end of two weeks found him on a stream which he believed to be one of the head branches of Green River.
The sun was nearly on the meridian when he was riding along the pleasant stream, in the shade of the cottonwoods and willows, meditating on his vagrant life, and wondering whether he would ever settle down and become a quiet and steady citizen. Thoughts of dinner were also in his mind, and were further provoked by the sight of a thin column of blue smoke, curling up above the tree-tops before him. He stopped at once, with a true woodman’s caution, and speculated upon the smoke and its cause.