And now came days of those strange, indescribable visions that come over one in high fever. I was in all imaginable places, and saw wonderful persons and scenes. Now and then, there were moments when reason flitted to its throne. At such times I saw the Medicine Man or Jim near me; and once, as I wonderingly opened my eyes, I saw the mysterious captive bending over me. I looked straight into her dark, liquid eyes, and reached forth and touched her garment, to satisfy myself that it was no freak of mind. My fixed stare alarmed her, and she looked inquiringly at the Medicine Man. He mumbled something, and she departed. About a week after my accident, as I subsequently learned, I awoke with my full reason. As I looked wonderingly about me, the first object that encountered my eyes was the captive to whom I have alluded. My fixed stare at her seemed to alarm her, and she arose to pass out. “Wait,” said I; “pray do not leave me.” “But you should not talk,” she replied, much agitated; “the Medicine Man would not allow it; you will surely injure yourself.” “You and the Medicine Man are both mistaken, if he thinks thus. I know I have been sick and delirious, but my mind was never clearer than it is this instant, and I know a few moments’ conversation cannot injure me. Let me beg you not to refuse me this, as I cannot tell whether the opportunity will ever again be offered.” The being before me was much embarrassed, and for a moment hesitated, seemingly in doubt between duty and inclination. Seizing the opportunity, I urged my wish with greater fervor than ever. Finally she glanced furtively around, as though she expected to meet the twinkling orbs of the Medicine Man, and then answered: “I cannot refuse your request, and yet it seems wrong that I should thus disobey the injunctions that were given for your good. What is it that you wish to ask me?” “Am I out of danger?” “Not yet. You have been crazy for a long time, and more than once the Medicine Man has shaken his head in doubt when he looked upon you.” “Have you not watched by me nearly all the time I have been thus?” I gazed full in her face as I uttered this question, and she dropped her eyes in confusion, as she replied: “I have assisted the Medicine Man several times as he wished me to, and I have done no more to you than I would to any one in similar circumstances.” “No, sweet being, I know you haven’t,” I exclaimed, in admiration; “your heart is open to any one. Who you are I know not, but I can see your race is similar to my own, and judge you to be a willing prisoner among these Indians. Your image has long been before me, and I can never forget your fair, angelic face. What first was merely _interest_ upon my part, has grown into a stronger passion for you, though I fear--”