Securely strapping Murphy to his saddle, and packing all their
remaining store of provisions upon one horse, leaving the other to
follow or remain behind as it pleased, he advanced directly into the
hills, steering by aid of the stars, his left hand ever on Murphy's
bridle rein, his low voice of expostulation seeking to calm the other's
wild fancies and to curb his violent speech. It was a weird, wild ride
through the black night, unknown ground under foot, unseen dangers upon
every hand. Murphy's aberrations changed from shrieking terror to a
wild, uncontrollable hilarity, with occasional outbursts of violent
anger, when it required all Hampton's iron will and muscle to conquer
him.
At dawn they were in a narrow gorge among the hills, a dark and gloomy
hole, yet a peculiarly safe spot in which to hide, having steep, rocky
ledges on either side, with sufficient grass for the horses. Leaving
Murphy bound, Hampton clambered up the front of the rock to where he
was able to look out. All was silent, and his heart sank as he
surveyed the brown sterile hills stretching to the horizon, having
merely narrow gulches of rock and sand between, the sheer nakedness of
the picture unrelieved by green shrub or any living thing. Then,
almost despairing, he slid back, stretched himself out amid the soft
grass, and sank into the slumber of exhaustion, his last conscious
memory the incoherent babbling of his insane companion.
He awoke shortly after noon, feeling refreshed and renewed in both body
and mind. Murphy was sleeping when he first turned to look at him, but
he awoke in season to be fed, and accepted the proffered food with all
the apparent delight of a child. While he rested, their remaining
pack-animal had strayed, and Hampton was compelled to go on with only
the two horses, strapping the depleted store of provisions behind his
own saddle. Then he carefully hoisted Murphy into place and bound his
feet beneath the animal's belly, the poor fellow gibbering at him, in
appearance an utter imbecile, although exhibiting periodic flashes of
malignant passion. Then he resumed the journey down one of those
sand-strewn depressions pointing toward the Rosebud, pressing the
refreshed ponies into a canter, confident now that their greatest
measure of safety lay in audacity.
Apparently his faith in the total desertion of these "bad lands" by the
Indians was fully justified, for they continued steadily mile after
mile, meeting with no evidence of life anywhere. Still the travelling
was good, with here and there little streams of icy water trickling
over the rocks. They made most excellent progress, Hampton ever
grasping the bit of Murphy's horse, his anxious thought more upon his
helpless companion in misery than upon the possible perils of the route.