So she rested, but, soon cooling off, she suffered with the cold.
Huddling down in the grass against a stone, and facing the east, she
waited for dawn to break.
The stars shut their eyes; the dark blue of sky turned gray; a pale
light seemed to suffuse itself throughout the east. The valley lay
asleep in shadow, the ridges awoke in soft gray mist. Far down over
the vastness and openness of the plains appeared a ruddy glow. It
warmed, it changed, it brightened. A sea of cloudy vapors, serene
and motionless, changed to rose and pink; and a red curve slid up
over the distant horizon. All that world of plain and cloud and
valley and ridge quickened as with the soul of day, while it colored
with the fire of sun. Red, radiant, glorious, the sun rose.
It was the dispeller of gloom, the bringer of hope. Allie Lee, lost
on the heights, held out her arms to the east and the sun, and she
cried: "Oh, God! ... Oh, Neale--Neale!"
When she turned to look down into the valley below she saw the white
winding ribbon-like trail, and with her eyes she followed it to
where the valley opened wide upon the plains.
She must go down the slope to the cover of the trees and brush, and
there work along eastward, ever with eye alert. She must meet with
travelers within a few days, or perish of starvation, or again fall
into the hands of the Sioux.
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