To take up the thread of my own narrative again, and the continuation of my journey with the savages, after the never-to-be-forgotten night when I parted with little Mary, and the attempt to escape myself will be to entertain my reader with a sight of the dangerous and precipitous paths among the great bluffs which we had been approaching, and the dizzy, fearful heights leading over the dark abyss, or the gloomy, terrible gorge, where only an Indian dares to venture. The blackness of night, and the dread of our savage companions, added terror to this perilous ride. As we passed the little creek before we plunged into these rocky fastnesses, we had left some scattered woods along its banks. I remember looking longingly at the dim shelter of these friendly trees, and being possessed by an almost uncontrollable desire to leap from the horse and dare my fate in endeavoring to reach their protecting shade; but the Indians’ rifles behind me, and my dread of instant death, restrained me. And now my attention was attracted by the wild and terrible scenery around us, through which our fearful captors rode at ease, although it seemed impossible for man or beast to retain a footing over such craggy peaks and through such rugged ravines. The cool air and the sound of rippling water warned us of our nearness to a river; and soon the savages turned their horses down a steep declivity that, like a mighty wall, closed in the great bed of the North Platte. I saw that the river was rapid and deep, but we crossed the sands, plunged in, and braved the current. From the child to my husband was an easy transition; indeed, when I thought of one, the other was presently in my mind; and to mark the path of our retreat with the letters and papers I dropped on our way seemed the only hope I had of his being able to come to my rescue. As the horses plunged into the swelling river I secretly dropped another letter, that, I prayed, might be a clue to the labyrinth through which we were being led; for I could see by all the Indians’ precautions, that to mislead any who should have the temerity to attempt our recovery, was the design of their movements. They had taken paths inaccessible to white men, and made their crossing at a point where it would be impossible for trains to pass, so that they might avoid meeting emigrants. Having reached the opposite bank they separated into squads, and started in every direction, except southward, so as to mislead or confuse pursuers by the various trails. The band that surrounded and directed us kept to the northward a little by west. I tried to keep the points of compass clearly, because it seemed part of the hope that sustained me.