We resolved to pass the night on the ground of the deserted encampment. By our guide's information--received from the runner--the Mormons were about thirty miles in advance of us. They were encamped on the banks of the Rio del Norte, there awaiting the answer of the Utah chief. That answer we should ourselves deliver on the following day. Having given the _coyotes_ their _conge_, we proceeded to pitch our buffalo-tents. A brace of these, borrowed from the friendly Utahs, formed part of the packing of our mules. One was intended for the use of the huntress-maiden--the other to give lodgment to the rest of our party. Not but that all of us--even Marian herself--could have dispensed with such a shelter. We had another object in thus providing ourselves. It might be necessary to travel some days in the company of the Saints. In that case, the tents would serve not only for shelter, but as a place of _concealment_. The opaque covering of skins would protect us from the too scrutinising gaze of our fellow-travellers; and in all likelihood we--the hunters of the party--should stand in need of such privacy to readjust our disguises--disarranged in the chase. Under cover of the tents, we could renew our toilet without the danger of being intruded upon. Chiefly for this reason, then, had we encumbered ourselves with the skin lodges. Thus far had we come without interruption. Though the trail was a route frequently travelled, both by Indians and whites, no one of either race had been encountered upon the way. We had seen neither man nor horse, excepting our own. For all that, we had not advanced without a certain circumspection. There was still a possibility of peril, of which we were aware; and we omitted no precautions that might enable us to avoid it. The danger I allude to was a probable encounter with some of our late enemies--the Arapahoes. Not those who had just been discomfited; but a party of my own pursuers of the preceding night. Some of these had returned to the butte as already stated, but had _all_ gone back? Might not others--stimulated by a more eager spirit of vengeance, or the ambition of striking a glorious _coup_ by my capture--have continued the pursuit? If so we might expect to encounter them on their return; or, if first perceived, we might fall into an ambuscade. In either case should they chance to outnumber us--to any great extent--a collision would be inevitable and dangerous.