Allie crawled out. A bright moon soared in the sky. The camp was
silent. The young woman slipped after her, and with a warning
gesture to be silent she led Allie away toward the slope of the
valley. It was a goodly distance. Not a sound disturbed the peace of
the beautiful night. The air was cold and still. Allie shivered and
trembled. This was the most exciting adventure of all. She felt a
sudden tenderness and warmth for this Indian girl. Once the squaw
halted, with ear intent, listening. Allie's heart stopped beating.
But no bark of dog, no sound of pursuit, justified alarm. At last
they reached the base of the slope.
The Indian pointed high toward the ridge-top. She made undulating
motions of her hand, as if to picture the topography of the ridges,
and the valleys between; then kneeling, she made a motion with her
finger on the ground that indicated a winding trail. Whereupon she
stealthily glided away--all without a spoken word.
Allie was left alone--free--with direction how to find the trail.
But what use was it for her to find it in that wilderness? Still,
her star kept drawing her spirit. She began to climb. The slope was
grassy, and her light feet left little trace. She climbed and
climbed until she thought her heart would burst. Once upon the
summit, she fell in the grass and rested.
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