The column wound on its way, at its rear the heavy-rolling, white-covered wagon-train. The band had ceased to play. The groups that had been waving farewells sorrowfully dispersed. The tom-tom was still, and no wail of squaws was borne across the river. Then, Dallas again started up Ben and Betty.
And now a sudden fit of depression came over her. The dew sparkled on the grass, the air was soft, the breeze caressing, the sun was warm on her shoulders. Yet with all the brightness on every hand, a sense of uneasiness would not be shaken off.
She found herself reining often to look toward Clark's. Midway of the eastern ridge was a long, buff blotch--the crossing of the coulée road. Would a horse and rider pass across that spot to-day? Probably not. A wave of loneliness and of undeserved injury swept her, welling the tears to her eyes.
She was halted close to the corn-land when cheery singing reached her. Marylyn had left the shack and was going riverward, dawdling with studied slowness.
"_We saw the Indians coming, We heard them give a yell, My feelings at that moment No mortal tongue could tell._
_We heard the bugle sounding, The Captain gave command-- 'To arms! to arms! my comrades, And by your ponies stand!'_
_We fought there full nine hours Before the strife was o'er. Such sight of dead and wounded I ne'er had seen before--_
_Five hundred noble Rangers As ever saw the West Were buried by their comrades, May peaceful be their rest!_"
Dallas shivered. The song suggested a cruel end for the gay troopers who had just gone forth. "Marylyn!" she called.
Marylyn nodded, threw a kiss, and strolled on.
All day, Dallas tried to work away her troublesome thoughts. When she had known that an Indian was signalling from Medicine Mountain, she had felt no fear. Why was she growing fearful now? For it was fear--not any mere nervousness, or sadness over the marching of the troops. It was even more: There was a haunting feeling that something was going to happen! There was a terrible certainty weighing upon her--a certainty of coming harm!
Toward night, she began to watch about her--southward, to the shanty of the Norwegian; eastward, to where the tent of the Sioux Falls man had been; west, where the setting sun touched the sentinel guns on the bluffs; along the coulée, where the darkness always crept first.