For three days Jack and Cloud wandered aimlessly. During much of this time he thought about his recent narrow escape. He knew he had killed Kennedy. God forgive him. He had never killed another human being. He had been trained by the army to do exactly that: to kill. He had been told that it is often a case of “kill or be killed”. But the memory kept forcing itself in on his waking moments and he had to admit that it troubled him.

Though he knew he had killed Kennedy, he was not so certain about Mr. Benson. He had seen him hit, but had the bullet been fatal. If the bullet had found its mark, if Mr. Benson were dead, why did this not bother his conscience like the death of Kennedy did? This was all too complicated.

He also wondered what had happened after he left. Did Pratt and Clance give chase? Were they the ones he thought he had seen after the escape?

He thrust these questions out of his mind. His stomach gnawed at him. He had eaten little for the last few days. He had managed to slake his thirst frequently, however, from the many small creeks and brooks coursing over the prairie in springtime.

Jack began to learn that though the prairie was vast and lonely it was not as empty as he rst thought.

Yesterday at noon he had seen a small party of seven mounted Indians riding northerly. It was only luck that they had not seen him. He was crossing a hill when his eyes caught a glimpse of a pinto, its black and white hide standing out against the brownish yellow plain in the middle distance. Jack stopped, dismounted and after ensuring Cloud could not be seen over the crest, crawled carefully up to take a good look.

There they were, the pinto and its rider in the lead. He was followed by six other riders. It was hard to distinguish clothing but there was no doubt they were armed. The leader carried a rie.

On his back he also slung a bow. The other riders were armed with spears and bows.

For some time Jack watched the party move north. Then he slid and crawled back down the hill. He took great care all the while not to be seen.

He checked several more times. Only after he was sure the Indian party had disappeared over a distant rise did Jack mount up and move on.

Now he was less concerned with Indian plains riders than with his constant hunger. He decided he would have a greater chance of nding wild game if he travelled at the edge of a poplar forest lining the edge of a valley about two miles north and to his right.

He rode the forest line for the remainder of the afternoon. Sometimes the line would run off to his right leaving hillsides covered only with prairie turf. At these times he had a commanding view of the valley.

It seemed to stretch out for many miles. Jack thought it looked like an old river bed long since dried up. He knew there must be a creek meandering through the valleybottom. He could see the willows and scrub brush. The growth was lush and greener down there too. Jack knew he would make his way into the valley before sunset.

The valley bent to the north west now and Jack turned with it. To his left the sun was slowly setting. In the distance the hills and valleys took on a misty magenta hue, in turns darker and lighter.

The sun was sinking quickly to the horizon now. A thin spool of cloud had unravelled across the breadth of the horizon. He watched the sun quickly sink until only half remained to spin out a last few minutes of daylight. Only part of the glowing red sun could be seen behind the cloud.

The cloud was white and blue and then smokey black in front of the sun. The edges of the cloud glistened crimson and yellow. Jack lifted his eyes up from the horizon. Across the great vault of the heavens spread laments of cloud glowing pinkish and red.

Like a great cathedral, thought Jack.

Then suddenly the red ball of ame dropped beneath the horizon. Jack immediately felt the chill.

He made his way down the gradual embankment in the gloaming. After pushing his way through the trees for an hour he found himself in a natural clearing. In front of him ran a brook. To his left stood a large boulder. Beyond that again a twenty foot rise in the embankment that ran down to the creek’s edge as though to nudge it further north.

He decided to stop there for the night.

Jack woke around midnight. He wondered what had caused him to wake up, for he had fallen asleep exhausted. It must have been Cloud moving, he thought.

He looked about. The recesses of the forest were dark. The moon was full, however, and despite the darkness he could see the white bark of the birch trees around his encampment. He could also see Cloud. Her gleaming white hide stoodout clearly. She whinnied softly, then shuddered.

Jack paused a moment. Then he mentally shrugged his shoulders and turned over.

He was about to shut his eyes when he heard it. The sound of many drums pounding out a steady rhythm. Jack listened quietly. A hard blow followed by three quiet blows, another hard blow then three quiet blows. The beat did not vary.

For many minutes Jack listened. The beat did not stop, but continued relentlessly.

Jack picked his way through the birch trees. He quietly scrambled up the ridge. It was higher than it rst appeared for each time he thought he had reached the crest he found it rose up once again.

Finally, he reached the top. It was dark yet the moon helped him nd his way. He crouched down and moved forward and over the cold damp earth.

Suddenly, the ground seemed to end. He peered forward. It was pitch dark. He strained his eyes. The ridge ended abruptly, forming a cliff.

What he saw beyond stopped his heart for a moment. The forest petered out a hundred yards distant.

There, about fty yards from the creek, sitting around a large re were hundreds of Indians.

Jack swallowed. He could feel his still empty stomach working. He moved to the left a few feet to get a better view.

The Indians sat in a circle twenty feet away from the re. Their faces glowed red in its reflection.

Three large drums could be seen in the centre upon each of which a number of men beat out the steady rhythm.

Jack could just make out the clothing of the Indians nearest to the re. They wore leather leggings of hide. Their shirts were also of buckskin. Both were decorated with many coloured beads. Some of the men close by the re wore resplendent feathered headdress.

I wonder if they could be chiefs, thought Jack.

A pipe slowly made its way around the circle pausing now and then for one or another in the gathering to take a puff.

Behind them in no order but all facing toward the re were hundreds of men. He could clearly make them out. Though it was difcult to see their dress, he could see many bows and spears.

Here and there, Jack could also see the glitter of rie barrels in the moonlight.

Jack could hear the occasional voice that was raised and now and then a burst of laughter.

Otherwise the scene went on for about an hour without incident.

Then without warning, one man with an elaborate headdress who had been sitting next to the re unfolded himself and stood. He began to speak. Only snatches of what he said carried over the gentle night air. Jack could not understand but he watched in fascination.

The person speaking was tall and slim. He had a high forehead and aquiline nose. As he spoke he made subtle gestures.

Now and then the listeners reacted with a murmur or a shout. Then suddenly the speaker stopped and pandemonium broke loose. The whole multitude erupted in screaming and shouting. Then the drums began in earnest and the Indians began to dance around the re.

Jack drew back from the cliff edge. They must be all around here, he thought.

Without further pause for reection he pushed his way silently back to Cloud and the two retreated quietly in the opposite direction, following the creek. He took great care to remain within the protection of the forest for the remainder of the night.