They noted the pretty villages along the shore, which had looked so near to them from the bluffs, before they crossed to the Nebraska side and found themselves in the flourishing city of Omaha. There was little to distinguish it from other cities in the East, except the regularity of its streets and the newer style of architecture which uniformly met their gaze. An hour later they were out upon the broad, balsam-scented prairie. The wind-swept grasses nodded to them invitingly and the unrebuked sun shone down smilingly upon the unmarred handiwork of Nature. Lissa was enraptured. This was the unfettered life of which she had dreamed. Her buoyant spirit was exhilarated by the fresh, flower-scented air and the glory of the landscape. “O Nathan, I shall never want to go East again!” she cried as they approached the Platte River and viewed the magnificent stretch of land for several miles up the valley, so level, so perfect, with the shining thread of the river like a prescient nerve carrying health and vigor to the adjacent territory. And far at the north and south the soft gray hills arose, joining the clear blue of the sky above as if earth, enamoured with the beauty of heaven, had arisen to meet the sky’s embrace. They had been riding many hours, when Nathan said: “Look yonder, Lissa, in our way. If I am not greatly mistaken, your desire to see a wild Indian is about to be gratified.” Lissa beamed with excitement. A wild Indian! Should she be afraid? “How can you tell at such a distance? I can see nothing but a dark object, and cannot determine if it be man or beast,” she said. “You have not trained your eye to long distances. I can see that it is a pony and that it has a rider, and the swift, steady gallop, together with the position of the rider, suggests an Indian; besides, we are in a locality where we are more likely to meet the ‘noble redman’ coming alone upon the prairie than his white brother.” Lissa watched the approach of the stranger with a shade of uneasiness. The thought of meeting a savage aboriginal, who to her mind was connected with all sorts of deeds of fiendish cruelty, caused a fluttering of the heart which Nathan’s assurances could not wholly allay. “How,” was Nathan’s salutation to the man as he drew near; and “how” was the guttural response of the Indian as he came to an abrupt halt by the side of the wagon, sitting in statuesque uprightness upon his pony. Not a muscle of his face moved. His countenance was as stolid and blank as if cut in stone, and during the time Nathan conversed with him in the Pawnee dialect he neither smiled nor expressed any feeling or thought in his face.