"Yes; I have a talisman. Did you not see me put this eagle feather, tipped with crimson, in my hat last night before I rode out?" "Yes. Is that your talisman?" "It is. It is from the coronet of a Sioux chief, and was given to me as a safeguard." "I wish I had one." "Keep with me and you will not need it." "Do not fear that I will go far from you. Alone, I should feel utterly lost on these prairies. Where will we camp to-night?" "Very close to the party that is ahead of us. They will go to a creek and a piece of timber that is fully fifty miles from here. About a mile from where I think they will camp there is a small ravine, in which we will find what grass and water we need. It will be near nightfall when we get there, if we do our best in travel. But if we ride hard, we'll take the longer rest. I do not care to keep too close to them as a general thing, but to-night we can't help it." Their nooning was short, and taking the precaution to water their horses well, and fill their canteens, they rode forward over the well-defined trail quite swiftly. Toward night they could see the trail freshened, but nothing was in sight except a distant mark when night fell, which the Texan said was the timber where the party ahead would camp. Just as the sun was setting smoke was seen to rise in that direction, and the Texan spoke contemptuously of the carelessness which would thus expose a camping-place to those who were miles distant. "If a captain of a ranger band would do such a thing in Texas," he said, "his men would reduce him to the ranks and put one in his place who knew how to be cautious." "It surely is imprudent. But they are a large party to cook for, and must have large fires," said Pond. The young Texan laughed scornfully. "Let every man make his own fire, make such fires as you have seen me make, and the smoke could not be seen a rifle-shot away," was the answer. "That party will never reach the Hills. Mark that! If Indians are within twenty miles they'll see a smoke like that. But what is it to us? We're safe." "I am not so selfish as to wish harm to reach them, even if we are safe!" said Pond, testily. "That is as much as to say that I am selfish. Well, I acknowledge it. I go in for number one. If they can't take ordinary care of themselves, let them suffer." Willie Pond made no answer, but rode on in silence. Night was now upon them, and all was still except the thud of the galloping hoofs upon the plain. Suddenly a gleam of fire was seen far ahead. The Texan noted it, and swerved off to the left. "There is the camp," he said. "I can easily find our resting-place now. I was afraid we would not see their fires until we were right up to the timber. But they are careless with their fire as they are with their smoke. We shall have moonlight in an hour, and in less time we'll be in camp." He rode on now, more slowly, for the horses were tired, and he seemed to know so well where to go that there was no haste.