Regretfully, I looked after her as I left the Cheyenne settlement. She had, however, vanished. Only the Warning Devil and the young chief who had taken me prisoner, were visible among the thronging red men who were watching my departure. The last made a single gesture. It might have been interpreted to mean one of two things, either-- "God speed!" or-- "Please the devil! that I may never see you again!" I was, at any rate, once more a free man, and had full liberty to wander where or in what direction I would. The chief had given me two guides. As these Indians could not speak a word of English, I was in one sense of the word companionless. It was barely some two miles from the Cheyenne village when the wild waste of the country spread out in an unbroken plain before my view, and I almost seemed to feel alone in the world. The primal days of Adam seemed to have settled on the solitary waste. There was no friendly word to greet our progress, no hostile arm to impede our rushing gallop. Not the slightest sign of civilization was visible. The enforced taciturnity of the two Indians made this but the more obvious. So, the first day passed. On the second, I saw an antelope. The stillness, which had heretofore been unbroken by anything save the tramp of our animals, our own breath, or the muttered exclamations of my two guides, was now shattered by the crack of my rifle. As the antelope fell to the earth, I heard the guttural exclamations of my guides, in which they gave the expression of their wonder as well as their gratification. It was very certainly a good shot. The antelope had been at long range. The two Indians had been astonished. As they trotted off, to secure the fallen animal, I could not help feeling that in their eyes, at least, I had in some measure justified the benevolence towards me of Old Spotted Tail. On the third day we struck the Emigrant trail. The night before, we had encamped in a spot which was as lovely as any I have ever seen. A running rivulet of deliciously cool water, fledged by green trees and arched in by the broad blue heaven, which girdles in life on the Plains, gave us, on its banks, a resting-place. Here, I slept well, and woke in the morning with a fresh consciousness of the life, vigor, and beauty of the world. Two hours after our start this day, we struck the trail. The guides came to a sudden halt, and pointing to the route I had to continue, abruptly left me. Their characteristic taciturnity had not deserted them for a single instant. During the whole of this day I followed the trail, overtaking and passing one Emigrant train, from whom, naturally enough, I could learn nothing of any which had preceded it. On the succeeding morning, I, however, encountered the Pony Express, and on inquiry learnt that a long train, with a large number of horses, had been passed by it. This train had been encamped at Sweet Water, close to Independence Rock, near what the rider called the old Frenchman's.