The girl turned wonderingly; she was surprised and dazed. In the clear morning light she saw the young ruddy youth, an Achilles, whom now she looked at with seeing eyes for the first time. He appeared quite beautiful to her, young, with that companionable quality that she had found only in the little brother whose head was pillowed on her lap. She looked at Steve and he saw in the blue eyes, that were fringed with dark silky lashes, an expression he had never seen on a woman’s face, a look which he was to learn meant suffering and discouragement, with courage and hope to carry on. She gazed at him silently. He was embarrassed and would have gone on ahead, but she spoke in a moment: “How nice. No, sir, they ain’t anything anyone can do, is there? Do you think we’ll ever get there?” She spoke softly. “Doren is sleeping good now”--she nodded to the child in her lap--“and papa is asleep back in the wagon. He needs it; he never slept all the time we were back there after they ran the mules off. He couldn’t bear to give up the freight. It was--terrible.” Tears stood in her eyes. Steven had been walking along beside the wagon, but now he jumped up on the seat and took the reins from her. Of course they’d make it. St. Vrain said they’d left the Indians behind now, and once they reached the Arkansas they’d be fairly near Bent’s Fort, and then they’d be safe. Papa had put everything they owned into the goods, the girl went on, stonily. Sold their home, all mamma’s furniture she left. She had thought the trip might do Doren good; his lungs were weak. They’d come all the way from Hartford, Connecticut, by way of the Lakes and then down the Mississippi to St. Louis. A wonderful trip that was, but this last journey had been like a nightmare. Weren’t there any folks at all in this country, but Indians? She and Doren had lain in the bottom of the wagon while the fight with the Comanches was going on, and two of the men who had been shooting from the back of their wagon had been dragged out and killed and their hair cut off right before her eyes. “Scalped!” Steven nodded. “I know.” He felt the scar above his ear reflectively. “Why don’t you try to lean back against the bales there and close your eyes and sleep?” he suggested. He made a place for her head.