It was a strange sight had there been anything but the buzzards to see it. Side

by side on the narrow shawl knelt the two wanderers, the little prattling child

and the reckless, hardened adventurer. Her chubby face, and his haggard, angular

visage were both turned up to the cloudless heaven in heartfelt entreaty to that

dread being with whom they were face to face, while the two voices—the one thin

and clear, the other deep and harsh—united in the entreaty for mercy and

forgiveness. The prayer finished, they resumed their seat in the shadow of the

boulder until the child fell asleep, nestling upon the broad breast of her

protector. He watched over her slumber for some time, but Nature proved to be

too strong for him. For three days and three nights he had allowed himself

neither rest nor repose. Slowly the eyelids drooped over the tired eyes, and the

head sunk lower and lower upon the breast, until the man’s grizzled beard was

mixed with the gold tresses of his companion, and both slept the same deep and

dreamless slumber.

 

Had the wanderer remained awake for another half hour a strange sight would have

met his eyes. Far away on the extreme verge of the alkali plain there rose up a

little spray of dust, very slight at first, and hardly to be distinguished from

the mists of the distance, but gradually growing higher and broader until it

formed a solid, well-defined cloud. This cloud continued to increase in size

until it became evident that it could only be raised by a great multitude of

moving creatures. In more fertile spots the observer would have come to the

conclusion that one of those great herds of bisons which graze upon the prairie

land was approaching him. This was obviously impossible in these arid wilds. As

the whirl of dust drew nearer to the solitary bluff upon which the two castaways