One night we came to another place much like the one we had called the
Happy Valley, and there we found an Indian village of fifteen or twenty
lodges, every one deserted, although we knew the people could not be
far away, for fires were burning brightly in front of the dwellings,
dogs were barking, and many willow baskets filled with service berries
were standing about.
[Illustration]
It was a beautiful spot for a home, and I could almost have wished
father would settle there, rather than continue on over a trail which
was as dangerous as the one spread out before us.
There were in the valley poplar and pine trees with many willows, and
here and there a patch of sunflowers shining out from the surrounding
green with a golden glory.
I had supposed our people would camp there; but instead of doing so
they continued on, planning to spend the night on the higher land.
When we were halfway up the ridge which led out from the valley, the
Indians, whom we had evidently frightened, came out from their hiding
places, whooping and shouting as if to scare us, although I saw no
token that they were bent on doing us mischief.
We camped on a slope of the ridge, down which ran a small brook, and
those who had tents set them up in a grove of cedar trees where they
looked most inviting. When, however, Ellen and I strolled that way we
found the mosquitoes and midges so thick that it seemed as if we had a
veil in front of our faces.
That night the men of our company gathered apart from the women and
children, seemingly to discuss some important matter; my curiosity
was so far aroused that when I saw Eben Jordan I called upon him for
an explanation, and he told me that we had come to the most dangerous
part of our journey, where we must encounter perils so great that those
which had already been overcome would seem as nothing.