Near nightfall, on their second day’s journey away from the main thoroughfare, they encountered a long freight-train, in charge of fur-traders, the second thus met since their travels began. Every wagon was heavily loaded with buffalo robes which had been prepared for market by the tedious, patient labor of Indian women. As the wives and slaves of English, French, Spanish, and Canadian hunters and traders, these women followed the fates of their grumbling and often cruel lords and masters through the vicissitudes of a precarious existence, with which nevertheless they seemed strangely content. The leader or captain of the freighters’ outfit was a tall, bronzed, and handsome Scotchman, whose nationality was betrayed at a glance. Captain Ranger bargained with him for a big, handsomely dressed buffalo robe, paying therefor in dried apples and potatoes. “Our men are getting scurvy from the lack of fruit and vegetables,” the leader said, as the exchange was concluded. “When they are in camp the squaws keep them supplied with berries, camas, and wapatoes. But they can’t bring the women out on a trip like this, away from the scenes of their labors.” “Here’s a present for you, Annie,” said Captain Ranger, bringing a soft, heavy, furry robe to his wife, and spreading it over her much-prized feather bed. “It will help you to bear the rough jolting over the rocky roads.” “Thanks, darling. You are very kind and thoughtful, but I shall not need it long.” “Oh, yes, you will, Annie! We’ve passed the cholera belt. The sun rides higher every day; and I’m sure you’ll soon be all right.” * * * * * “Did you notice that big handsome Scotchman who seemed to be the boss of that freighters’ outfit?” asked Mrs. McAlpin, addressing Jean, and emerging from her hiding-place in one of the wagons after the outfit had passed out of sight and hearing and the Ranger company had encamped. “Yes, Mrs. McAlpin. He seemed master of the situation.” “Do you think he discovered me or mamma?” “I didn’t think to notice whether he saw either of you or not.” “I kept out of his sight, and made mamma do likewise.” “Did you know him?” “May I trust you, Jean?” “Why, certainly! What’s up?” “I need you, Jeanie; I need a friend with a level head.” Mrs. McAlpin’s face was gray, like ashes, and her aspect of fear was startling. “What under heaven is the matter?” asked Jean. “That man is my husband!” “Then I congratulate you. Daddie was much pleased with him. But I thought your husband was a man of leisure, travelling in Europe, or Asia, or among the ruins of Central America. You told me he was an archæologist. Did you expect to find him here on these plains?”