"OH, THERE IS WOLF EAR!"  
It will be remembered that when Brinton Kingsland dropped to the ground in the gathering darkness to check the crossing of the Big Cheyenne by the Sioux, whose leader had met him in mid-stream, he called in an undertone to his parents to hasten out of the range of the flying bullets; he repeated the command to his pony Jack, who obediently trotted after them.
 
The father and mother, at this time, had no more thought of separating themselves for any distance from their brave son than he had; but two causes brought about the singular accident already referred to.
 
The excited words of Brinton and the reports of the guns led the couple to think the danger more imminent than it was. As a consequence, they rode farther than was necessary, but still not to a point that ought to have caused any difficulty in their coming together when prudent to do so.
 
Mr. Kingsland's pony travelled faster than that of his wife, thus placing him a few yards in advance. The gloom had not yet become deep enough to prevent their seeing each other; but at a moment when the wife was about to ask her husband to stop, she was surprised to see him turn to the left, his pony struggling up the bank to the level ground above.
 
"Why do you do that, Hugh?" she called in a guarded voice, but at once following him.
 
He did not answer, but narrowly missed falling out of the saddle. His animal continued moving away from the river-bank, and presently struck into an easy gallop, which rapidly increased the distance from the stream.
 
Mrs. Kingsland now suspected the meaning of the strange action, and urged her pony beside that of her husband, which was going so fast that she was obliged to travel farther than she supposed before coming up with him. Then, laying hold of the bridle, she brought her husband's pony to a halt.
 
"What is the matter, Hugh?" she asked; "are you ill?"
 
"Gracious! what have I been doing?" he exclaimed, in turn bewildered, and looking about in the darkness.
 
"Why, you have been trying to run away from us," said Edith, with a laugh, believing the whole thing to be a joke on her father's part.
 
"You have come a good way from the riverbank," replied the disturbed wife; "I tried to check you, but could not."
 
"I understand it now," said he, passing his hand across his forehead, in the effort to collect his thoughts. "Just after we started a faintness seized me, and I knew nothing until this minute. I don't understand why I did not fell out of the saddle."
 
"I saw you reel, and you must have come near doing so. How do you feel now?"
 
"Much better. Strange that I should have been attacked in that manner; but I am sure it will not occur again. What will Brinton think?"
 
"I have heard the report of guns, but all is quiet now."
 
"I feel little alarm, for they will not dare to cross while he is guarding the ford."
 
"Is he not in danger?"
 
"No; he is lying on the ground, and they cannot see him; he will hold them at bay as long as he wishes."
 
"But they may come over at some other point and get behind him."
 
"I did not think of that," said the husband more thoughtfully; "but I am sure he will not stay any longer than he ought. It won't do for us to go back, for, if the Indians do cross the river, we shall be in their path. It may be well to go part of the way over our own track, so as to make it easier for him to find us. Come on, and make no noise."
 
"But you are not taking the right course," protested his wife: "you should turn more to the left."
 
"I feel almost sure you are wrong; but you have had your senses about you all the time, which is more than I have had, and I bow to your decision."
 
"But, mother, you are not right," interposed Edith, now fully awake; "you should go that way"; and she indicated a route widely different from that of either—so different, indeed, that her mother could not accept it.
 
"No, dear, you are wrong," she calmly replied. "I will lead."
 
And yet there is reason to believe the child was nearer right than either, and had her suggestion been adopted, much of what followed might have been averted.
 
While they were riding, as they believed, in the direction of the Big Cheyenne, Mr. Kingsland noticed that the pony of his son was not with them. His wife said that he did not come up the river-bank, and was probably waiting for Brinton to go to him. It will thus be seen that the youth was wrong in his supposition about the movements of Jack.
 
By-and-by the time came when Mrs. Kingsland saw she had committed a sad blunder, and, instead of approaching the river, had gone still farther from it; they could hear nothing of its flow, and were lost on the prairie. Husband and wife now debated what was best to do.
 
It was found that when each, including Edith, named the supposed direction to the stream, they were as widely apart as before.
 
"The wisest course is to stop trying to find the river," remarked the husband, "for every effort only takes us farther away; we might as well go into camp right here."
 
"And freeze to death."
 
"No; we will ride round until we find some shelter from this cutting wind, and then make ourselves as comfortable as we can until morning. Do you see that light away to the south?"
 
That which the ranchman observed was the glow already referred to as attracting the notice of Brinton. The latter saw it in its true direction—that is, in the northern horizon, from which the bewilderment of his parents will be evident.
 
In the hope of finding their way to the river the couple acted upon what might be considered a compromise. It is not necessary to say that every yard thus traversed increased the space between them and the youth who, at that moment, was groping blindly in quest of them.
 
The wanderings of the stray ones, however, were fortunately not long continued, when the ponies of their own accord descended a depression in the prairie. It was not deep or well protected, and was not reached until after they had passed over several elevations, but they accepted the shelter thankfully, and dismounted.
 
The three were cramped from their long constraint, and Edith ran around and here and there for some minutes before she was willing to be tucked away for the night. Their abundant clothing enabled them to get along much better than might be supposed; the little one lay between father and mother, the ponies being allowed to stay by themselves. As in the case of Brinton, the long wintry night p............