As to the other beauty, it was quite a different matter.  She had become the wife of a Shoshonie brave.  It is true, he had another wife, of older date than the one in question; who, therefore, took command in his household, and treated his new spouse as a slave; but the latter was the wife of his last fancy, his latest caprice; and was precious in his eyes.  All attempt to bargain with him, therefore, was useless; the very proposition was repulsed with anger and disdain.  The spirit of the trapper was roused, his pride was piqued as well as his passion.  He endeavored to prevail upon his quondam mistress to elope with him.  His horses were fleet, the winter nights were long and dark, before daylight they would be beyond the reach of pursuit; and once at the encampment in Green River Valley, they might set the whole band of Shoshonies at defiance.

The Indian girl listened and longed.  Her heart yearned after the ease and splendor of condition of a trapper’s bride, and throbbed to be free from the capricious control of the premier squaw; but she dreaded the failure of the plan, and the fury of a Shoshonie husband.  They parted; the Indian girl in tears, and the madcap trapper more than ever, with his thwarted passion.

Their interviews had, probably, been detected, and the jealousy of the Shoshonie brave aroused:  a clamor of angry voices was heard in his lodge, with the sound of blows, and of female weeping and lamenting.  At night, as the trapper lay tossing on his pallet, a soft voice whispered at the door of his lodge.  His mistress stood trembling before him.  She was ready to follow whithersoever he should lead.

In an instant he was up and out.  He had two prime horses, sure and swift of foot, and of great wind.  With stealthy quiet, they were brought up and saddled; and in a few moments he and his prize were careering over the snow, with which the whole country was covered.  In the eagerness of escape, they had made no provision for their journey; days must elapse before they could reach their haven of safety, and mountains and prairies be traversed, wrapped in all the desolation of winter.  For the present, however they thought of nothing but flight; urging their horses forward over the dreary wastes, and fancying, in the howling of every blast, they heard the yell of the pursuer.

At early dawn, the Shoshonie became aware of his loss.  Mounting his swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit.  He soon found the trail of the fugitives, and spurred on in hopes of overtaking them.  The winds, however, which swept the valley, had drifted the light snow into the prints made by the horses’ hoofs.  In a little while he lost all trace of them, and was completely thrown out of the chase.  He knew, however, the situation of the camp toward which they were bound, and a direct course through the mountains, by which he might arrive there sooner than the fugitives.  Through the most rugged defiles, therefore, he urged