Thus, unobserved by the scout, matters were taking a stormy turn and threatening squally weather. Percy la Clyde was jealous of Howard Lawrence, who in turn hated the young officer, and was likewise jealous of the scout, in whom both Sibyl and Ruth appeared to be so deeply interested. If these jealous hearts could have realized it, the situation held a very large element of comedy. At length the sun arose beyond the prairie, and slowly the long train of wagons filed out from the motte, with here and there a party on horseback, and took up its march farther on toward the setting sun, leaving behind, within their narrow beds of clay, those who had fallen in the battle the night before. At the head of the train rode a small cavalcade, consisting of Buffalo Bill, Percy la Clyde, Major Conrad, and the troopers. The scout was acting as a guide for the emigrants toward one of the most fertile districts on the plains, which was well watered, and where a settlement would have every advantage that could be found on the frontier. When Howard Lawrence heard Buffalo Bill speak of the point he considered most favorable as a settlement, he instantly remarked that he intended riding on ahead for half a mile. Arming himself thoroughly, and declining Gerald Conrad’s offer to accompany him, the young pioneer set off, at first keeping only a short distance ahead, but gradually drawing away from the train, until, when the noonday halt was made, he was nowhere visible upon the prairie. As if fully acquainted with the country, he put his horse at a rapid gallop, and continued on for miles, until a higher roll in the prairie gave him a view of the river through the green trees of a prairie island. Toward this point he directed his course until he found himself upon a peninsula, made by the river making a grand curve. On this point of land, entirely surrounded by water, excepting where it touched the open prairie, had been the home of Alfred Carter. A more delightful place could not have been chosen for a settlement; for the point, or the peninsula, contained fully five thousand acres of land, of the richest kind of soil. Scattered over it were large timber mottes, the river bounded it upon three sides, while to the eastward stretched the unbroken prairie for miles, to serve as a luxuriant pasture for stock. As Howard Lawrence rode along the trail leading toward the humble cabin home upon the river bank, his brow wore a troubled look, and he glanced nervously around him. Nearer and nearer he drew toward the cabin; but no lazy wreath of blue smoke curled up above the treetops, and all seemed strangely desolate around him. Presently a dark form glided from the foliage bordering the trail, and stood directly in his path. Lawrence reined his horse back with iron grasp as his eyes fell upon this person. “Red Bud of the Forest, what do you here near the lonely home of the paleface hunter?” he demanded, speaking in the language of the Pawnees.