In the heart of these preparations an insane desire came into my mind to know something of Saul's ancestors, and there was but one way to know, namely, by asking, which I would not do of human soul. Thus it came to pass that I was driven out, between this would of my mind and wouldn't of my soul, to search for some knowledge from inanimate things. The last night before our departure I became particularly restless and unsatisfied. I went to the place of burial of the villagers, where I found duly recorded on two stones the names of Saul's parents, Richard Monten and Agnes Monten, his wife. There was nothing Indian there, and I went home once more to the place that had been so happy until the spirit of inquiry grew stronger than I. That night I watched Saul, until he grew restless, and asked me why I did so. I evaded direct reply, and on the morrow we were wheeling westward. From the instant we left the line of man's art, Saul became another person. All the romance and the glory in his nature blossomed out gorgeously, and I grew glad and gay with him. We crossed the Missouri. We traversed the river-land to Fort Leavenworth, amid cottonwoods, oaks, and elms which it would have done Dr. Holmes's heart and arms good to see and measure. "Will you ride, Lucy? will you try the prairie?" asked Saul, the morning following our arrival in Fort Leavenworth. I signified my pleasure, and mounted a brave black mustang, written all over with liberty. We had ridden out the dew of the morning, and for miles not one word had been spoken, the only sound in the stillness having been the hoofs' echo on the prairie-grass, when Saul rode close to me, and, laying his hand on my pony's head, spoke in a deep, strange voice that put my soul into expectancy, for I had heard the same once before in my life. "Lucy," he said, "I sometimes think that I have done a great wrong in taking you into my keeping; for I _must_ accept these calls to wildness that come over me at intervals." "Have you ever been here before?" I asked. "Twice, Lucy, I have crossed the American Desert, and lain down to sleep at the foot of the Rocky Mountains." "You are not going there now?" I almost gasped. "Why not? Can't you go with me?" Oh, how my spirit recoiled at the thought of the Desert! Wild animals processioned through my brain in endless circles. All the stories of Indian ferocity that ever I had heard came into my consciousness, as it is said all the past events of life do in the drowning, and I had no time to hesitate. The decision of my lifetime gathered into that instant. Saul or nothing; and bravely I answered,--did I not?--when, with brightening eyes, I said, "Let us on!"--and shaking the hand from my saddle-bow, I gave my prairie friend leave to fly.