"Calamity is man's true touchstone."

"You have talked too much, seÑor," Juanita said with concern, noting the look of utter exhaustion that came over his face with the last words; "I am but a poor nurse to have allowed it. Your lips are parched too," she added, dropping her work and gliding from the tent to return a moment later with a gourd full of the cold, sparkling water of the mountain stream.

She raised his head and held the cup to his lips.

He drank with feverish eagerness.

As he lay back upon his couch again Juanita remarked that his wounds must be painful and in need of dressing, adding that Light-of-the-Morning, Thunder-Cloud's wife, who had great knowledge of the virtues of many plants and roots growing in that region, would soon come in and dress them with a certain kind of leaf that was famed among the Indians for its healing qualities, and had already worked wonders for him.

"And she has been dressing my hurts all these days?" asked Rupert.

"Yes."

"Ah, how long have I lain here, seÑora?"

"Three weeks, seÑor," she answered, and at that moment the old squaw he had seen before came in bearing a bark basket filled with the healing leaves.

Juanita withdrew to the farther side of the wigwam, and seated herself with her back toward them while Light-of-the-Morning did her work.

The task was performed a trifle roughly, but with dexterity and skill, and the applications proved very cooling and soothing to Rupert's wounds, which before had tortured him with a sensation of dryness and burning heat.

He returned warm thanks, Juanita acting as interpreter.

The squaw nodded, her grim features relaxing in a slight smile, as of pleasure, that her labors were appreciated; then pointing to Rupert's medicine case, lying by his side, asked what it was.

Juanita repeated the query in Spanish, and translated Rupert's answer into Apache, which she had learned to speak with tolerable fluency.

The squaw then asked for some medicine for a sick child in the camp, whose ailment baffled her skill.

Rupert was a good druggist, and had sufficient knowledge of medicine to prescribe for the child when he had heard what were the symptoms; also the proper remedy was in his case, and he gave it. The result was satisfactory, and raised him in the esteem of the whole village.

Squaws, pappooses, a few lads and young girls, and a sprinkling of old men were all that were in it at this time, the braves having gone again upon the war-path. This Rupert learned from Juanita.

In a few days he was able to crawl out from the wigwam and lie on a bearskin, which she laid for him underneath a spreading tree. He found the pure mountain air very delightful and invigorating, and from that time his recovery was rapid.

He was soon able to sit up a part of the day and amuse himself with whittling bits of soft wood, making whistles for the little Indian boys and a variety of toys for the girls—tiny chairs, tables, spoons, knives and forks—which greatly delighted them.

Thus he made friends of the children, and also of their mothers, while to his generous nature it was a great satisfaction to be able to give such pleasure even to these rude children of the desert.

Also, as he picked up their language, he tried to tell them the old, old story so dear to every Christian heart. To Juanita he was able to tell it at once, and often as she sat by his side during his convalescence, he read to her passages from his Bible, stopping now and then to give an explanation or answer a question; for she listened with interest and a desire to fully comprehend.

That his Bible had been spared to him was a source of deep joy and thankfulness, such comfort did he find in its many great and precious promises.

His heart was often oppressed with sadness as he thought of Don, and longed to know his fate, or of the dear ones at home and the distress they would undoubtedly feel on account of his disappearance. He supposed the report would be that he had been killed by the Indians, and pictured to himself his mother's anguish on hearing the terrible tidings; his father's also, for he knew that to both their children were very near and dear.

When overwhelmed by these sorrowful reflections, his only comfort was in prayer to Him who is mighty to save, and who, he doubted not, was able both to give consolation to his loved ones and to deliver him from the hands of his foes.

His situation was not an enviable one at the first, but it became less so upon the return of the braves, most of whom regarded him with scowls and looks of hate.

He gave them back pleasant looks, was on the watch to do them any little service in his power, but avoided them when he could without offence. As time went on he found opportunities to win their good-will.

From a boy he had made a practice of learning all that he could on every subject, and about every kind of work that came in his way; and now he found use for some kinds of knowledge that most lads would think it beneath them to acquire; and he was not only an expert whittler, but equally accomplished as a cook, and he taught the squaws to make savory dishes that the braves, their husbands and sons, loved, thus winning favor for himself.

Yet it seemed not altogether good policy; for finding him so useful they were the more determined never to part with him; and while treating him well in other respects, kept him a close prisoner in that little mountain fastness, watching with vigilance his every movement, and never suffering him to go out of sight of the village.

Still, Rupert never for a moment faltered in his determination to effect his escape; but while constantly on the alert for an opportunity, was extremely careful to do nothing to excite suspicion that such was his purpose.

It was, however, no secret from Juanita, who was to share the attempt whenever made; and frequently when alone, plans for flight, the direction it should take, and what provision could be made for it, formed the principal theme of their conversation.

Neither knew exactly where they were, but Rupert had an idea that their nearest route toward civilization would lie in a south-easterly direction and take them into Texas.

He had no means of determining the matter, nor could he for a long time do anything more than think and plan.

In the mean while he tried to be useful in every possible way to those about him, more especially Juanita.

He taught her to speak and read English, using his Bible as his text-book; it was the only one at hand, but it proved sufficient. He found her deplorably ignorant of almost everything but embroidery and music—for which she possessed remarkable talent—but managed, in the course of the three years they spent in the wilds together, to give her a great amount of general information—teaching her many things orally—drawing maps in the sand for her instruction in geography and history, using the heavens at night to assist in giving her a knowledge of astronomy, the plants and flowers to which they had access to teach her the rudiments of botany.

Juanita proved an apt pupil, bright and interesting, readily catching an idea and retaining it in her memory; all the more easily, doubtless, that she dearly loved her teacher.

She was very young, had seen nothing of the world, and in her artless simplicity made her affection quite apparent to its object; but he had no difficulty in returning it, and before they had been six months together they had come to a full understanding, and were plighted lovers.

Then Rupert drew bright pictures of his home—the home to which he hoped one day to take her—and of his father and mother, brothers and sisters, all of whom he said would welcome and love her as one of themselves.

But one year and then another rolled slowly away, while deliverance seemed no nearer than at first, and oftentimes their hearts were sick with hope deferred.

It was harder for Rupert than for Juanita; for he whom she had with her was all she had to love, while he, though fondly attached to the lovely girl sharing his captivity, was separated from many who were also very dear to his heart, and who must, he knew, be suffering much distress of mind on his account.

Then, too, the enforced inactivity in business matters was very trying to him, while she knew nothing of it.

He was her world, and she had him there; yet she did not enjoy savage life; longed to return to civilization for her own sake, and still more for his.

Besides, they were at times in great danger when the Indians were excited by drink or preparations to go upon the war-path, or upon the return of the braves from such an expedition, either exultant from victory or depressed and angered by defeat.

At length, in the third year of Rupert's captivity, the vigilance of the Indians began to relax somewhat; they thought their prisoners had become enamored of their wild life, and would hardly care to risk an attempt to escape, knowing, as they undoubtedly did, that if recaptured torture and death would be almost sure to follow; so Rupert and Juanita would occasionally find themselves free to ramble through the extent of the valley, and even to climb some of the nearer hills and mountains.

Hope now revived in their breasts, and was quickened erelong by a fortunate discovery: they one day came upon some small nuggets of gold, which they carefully secreted about their persons, with the joyful thought that it would help them on their contemplated journey.

Then, some weeks later, Rupert picked up a stone which he felt confident was a diamond. This too he secreted with the greatest care, sewing it securely upon the inner side of the deerskin hunting-shirt which he now wore day and night, and letting no one but Juanita know of its existence. From her he had no concealments, for their interests were one and the same.

They now watched more eagerly than ever for the longed-for opportunity; but weeks and months dragged on their weary way, and it came not.

Another winter, with its suffering from cold and storms, from which they were but poorly protected in the rude huts of the savages, passed slowly by, spring opened, and once more the braves went forth upon the war-path.

Seated together upon a ledge of rock on the side of a mountain overlooking the Indian village, and forming part of the barrier shutting in the little valley from the outer world, Rupert and Juanita watched the departure of the Apache chiefs and braves, hideous in their war-paint and feathers; and as the last of them disappeared in the defile that formed the sole entrance to this natural mountain fastness, Rupert, turning to his companion, said, in tones of half-tremulous eagerness and excitement, "Juanita, love, this is our opportunity; I doubt if we shall ever have a better."

"What mean you, Rupert?" she asked in some surprise; "what will prevent Light-of-the-Morning from watching our every moment as vigilantly as ever? and does not old Crouching Wildcat keep guard day and night at the only entrance to the valley? and is he not constantly armed and ready to shoot us down if we so much as approach the spot where he stands sentinel?"

"All quite true," returned Rupert; "yet I have a plan; listen, maiden mine, while I unfold it. It is that to-day and to-morrow we make, quietly and unobserved, every preparation in our power; then that you make a quantity of that savory venison stew that both Light-of-the-Morning and Crouching Wildcat delight in, adding a little white powder which I shall give you; let them both sup upon it, and they will sleep soundly for some hours—so soundly that we may steal from our wigwams, join each other at the old warrior's side, and pass out of the valley unmolested and unnoticed by him."

"And they will wake again and suffer no harm from the powder?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "You know, Juanita, I would not murder them even to gain liberty for myself and you. The powder will cause them to sleep heavily for a time, and perhaps make them sick for some hours after, but will do them no permanent injury."

The girl's face grew radiant. "Oh," she cried, clasping her hands in ecstasy, "how sweet, how delightful to be free! But why not to-night? why should we wait another day?"

"That when our flight is discovered the braves may be too far away for a messenger to reach them with the news in time for them to overtake us."

"Ah, yes; you are much wiser than I; you think of everything."

The braves were quite gone; the last faint echo of their horses' hoofs had died away far down the pass, and the squaws and children, who had been watching their departure, scattered to their work or play.

Juanita sighed; then, with a shudder, "How many bloody scalps shall we see dangling aloft from their spears when they come back!" she said.

"Please God, we shall not be here to behold the horrible, sickening sight," said Rupert. Then taking her hand in his, "Juanita, you should be my wife before we start upon our journey."

She glanced up into his face half shyly, flushing rosy red. "But how can it be?" she asked timidly; "there is no priest here to unite us."

"We will marry ourselves by Friends' ceremony," he said; then explained it to her, for she had never heard of it before.

"I fear I shall not feel married," she remarked, in a tone of doubt and hesitation.

"I have the same feeling," he said, "particularly because we have no witnesses. But it is the best we can do now, and as soon as we can we will be remarried by a minister.

"Juanita," tightening his clasp of her hand, "I take you to be my wife, and promise to be to you a true, faithful, and loving husband till death do us part."

The beautiful eyes filled with glad tears. "And I," she said, in low, musical tones, "take you, Rupert, to be my lawful and wedded husband, and promise to be to you a true, loving, faithful, and obedient wife."

He put his arm about her, and drew her into a close, tender embrace, imprinting a long and ardent kiss upon the rich red lips. "We are one, love," he whispered, "and what God hath joined together shall no man put asunder."

After some further discussion of their plans they separated, and by mutual consent were seen together less than usual during that day and the next, so fearful were they of arousing suspicion of their design to attempt an escape.

But late in the afternoon of the second day Rupert contrived to give Juanita the little morphine powder which she was to administer to Light-of-the-Morning and Crouching Wildcat, and to do it unperceived by any of the Indians.

Juanita hastily concealed it, fastening it into the folds of her tunic with a pin.

There were but few cooking utensils in the Indian village, but Light-of-the-Morning was the proud possessor of a little iron pot carried off by the braves in one of their raids upon their white neighbors, and of this Juanita was allowed to make use in preparing the savory stew of which Rupert had spoken.

When she proposed doing so to-night, the old squaw nodded consent with a smile of approval.

The newly made bride went cheerily to work, moving about with her accustomed grace, and softly humming a snatch of song, yet with a quaking heart as she thought of the risk she and Rupert were now to run.

As he and she were to partake of the meal, she also broiled venison and fish over the coals, and baked bread, making her dough into long, slender rolls, which she then twisted round and round a stick; that she stuck into the ground close to the fire, and so baked the bread, now and then pulling up the stick and replanting it with another side to the fire.

Light-of-the-Morning sat watching her with a look of great satisfaction, evidently enjoying the feast in anticipation.

At length all was ready, and Juanita began to despair of an opportunity to carry out her design, when the squaw supplied it by seizing a gourd and going for water for the meal.

She had scarcely dropped the curtain of the wigwam behind her ere Juanita had snatched the powder from its hiding-place and poured it into the stew, trembling and turning pale as she did it; for oh, how much depended upon the success of the measure!

And it was an anxious moment to both herself and Rupert when Light-of-the-Morning first tasted of the medicated dish. She paused, tasted again, and remarked that it was not quite so good as usual, had a slightly bitter taste; Juanita must have been careless and let it scorch; but to their great relief she went on to make a hearty meal of it, not seeming to notice that neither of them touched it.

There was a good deal left, and Rupert surreptitiously carried it off to Crouching Wildcat, who received the attention with satisfaction, and devoured the food with great gusto, apparently never noticing the unusual taste of which the squaw had complained.

Although but little past sunset, the village was already quiet, scarcely any one, old or young, to be seen moving; for as a rule they kept early hours there.

Juanita had purposely delayed the evening meal in Thunder-Cloud's wigwam, rather to the displeasure of its mistress, whose appetite had grown very keen while waiting; a good thing for the success of the young people's plans, for she ate very heartily, and almost immediately threw herself down on her couch of skins and fell into a deep sleep.

It was thus Rupert found her on bringing back the vessel in which he had carried Crouching Wildcat his portion.

Juanita sat beside the couch, gazing upon the sleeper with bated breath, her hands folded in her lap, her whole frame trembling with excitement.

As Rupert pushed aside the curtain and entered, she looked up at him, and laid her finger upon her lips.

He smiled and nodded, then stooped and whispered in her ear, "All is already quiet; I think we may set out as soon as it is dark enough to gain the entrance of the pass unperceived. Come then, love; you will find me there."

Her speaking eyes gave the promise he sought, and with a parting, half-regretful glance at the old squaw, who had always been kind to him and Juanita also, he left the wigwam.

Withdrawing to a short distance, he knelt in the shadow of a tree and poured out his soul in fervent prayer for guidance and help in this perilous undertaking.

The shades of evening were falling fast as he rose from his knees. He sent one swift glance around to make sure that no human eye was near enough to watch his movements, and, satisfied of that, walked with rapid yet noiseless step toward the foot of the mountain that shut in the valley on the nearest side.

Ascending a little way, he came to a ledge of rock; here stooping down and thrusting aside the overhanging branches of a wild vine that concealed a little hollow, he took from thence a bundle of jerked buffalo meat and venison, which he had collected in preparation for the flight, and with it in his hand rapidly retraced his steps.

He paused beneath the tree he had but just left, to take another reconnoitring glance, and was startled to find some one leaning against it, the faint outline of whose figure was barely perceptible in the gathering darkness; but only for an instant; the next he knew it was Juanita, and his arm stole round her waist.

"My love, my darling," he whispered, "does your heart fail you?"

"No, beloved, not while you are with me and lead the way," she answered softly.

"Come, then; I think they are all asleep, and it is quite dark; now is our time," he said, taking her hand and leading her onward.

Both had learned to walk with the Indian's noiseless tread; they wore moccasins, and there was no sound of footsteps as they pursued their silent way to the mouth of the pass.

Before they reached it the loud snoring of the sentinel told them there was no danger of molestation from him. He lay prone upon the ground, so soundly asleep that Rupert was able to divest him of his arms without waking him.

The gun, powder-horn, and shot-bag were Rupert's own, which had been taken from him at the time of his capture, so that the most scrupulous conscience could have seen no wrong in his taking possession; though, indeed, had they not been his own he would have thought it no robbery under the circumstances.

He was exceedingly glad to find both bag and horn well filled, for on that largely depended his ability to supply food for himself and Juanita on the long journey that lay before them ere they could reach the confines of civilization.

Attaching those two articles to the belt that confined his hunting-shirt about the waist, and putting the gun over his shoulder, with the bag of dried meat hung upon it, he took Juanita's hand in his again, and led her up the pass, away from the scene of their captivity.

It was very dark in that narrow defile, with the mountains towering far above them on each side, and the way was narrow, rough, and stony; again and again they stumbled and were near falling, yet held each other up; but they pressed patiently, determinately onward, without pause or exchange of word or syllable, till they reached the end, and came out upon a wide open plain.

The newly-risen moon, flooding it with silver light, showed them something of its nature and extent; it was treeless and, except along the margin of a stream that crossed it, a sandy waste. It did not look inviting, but across it lay the path to freedom, home, and friends.

They paused but a moment to recover breath and take in the view by one sweeping glance from side to side, then pressed forward more rapidly than had been possible in the darkness of the defile from which they had just emerged.

"Thank God, there is no foe in sight!" ejaculated Rupert, "but we must make all haste across this plain; for if pursued we can be seen from a great distance. Also let us gain yonder stream as quickly as possible, and walk in the water to destroy the scent of our footsteps, and leave no mark of a trail, by which we can be tracked."

"Yes, yes," panted Juanita; "oh, let us hasten."

"My poor darling, you are already almost spent," Rupert said tenderly. "Lean on me. If I were but free of the gun and bag of meat, I would take you in my arms."

"No, no," she returned, with a little pleased laugh. "I should not allow it. I am but a trifle out of breath; that is all, my best of husbands."

"I am happy to hear it," he said, "for I fear your strength will be sorely tried before we can reach a place of safety. Draw your blanket more closely about you, for the night wind has full sweep across this open plain, and its cold is piercing."

They had both been forced to adopt the Indian style of dress; Juanita had neither cloak nor shawl, but wore a blanket wrapped about her shoulders, after the manner of the squaws.

She drew it closer, took Rupert's arm, and they sped swiftly over the plain, the sense of impending danger lending them unnatural strength and speed.

They reached the stream, and followed its course for some miles, keeping just within the water's edge, then left it for a more direct route, which brought them, about daylight, to a dense forest.

Being now utterly spent with fatigue, they were obliged to stop and take some rest. Rupert spread his blanket at the foot of a tree, made Juanita lie down upon it, and carefully covered her with his own. "My poor child, how very weary you are!" he sighed in tender accents.

"Ah, if I could but provide a cup of hot coffee and a good warm breakfast for your refreshment! But I have nothing to offer you but this dried venison, and dare not even kindle a fire to dry your wet feet, lest the smoke should attract the attention of our savage foes."

"Ah," she said, with a determined effort to be cheerful, and giving him a sweet, bright smile, "we will not mind such trifles, if only we may escape being recaptured. Give me a bit of the venison; I can eat it with appetite."

They rested and slept where they were for some hours; then, late in the afternoon, started on again through the forest, trying to keep a south-easterly direction, and guided by the sun, of which they caught occasional glimpses between the tall tree-tops.

About the time of his setting they came out upon a little opening in the forest; and here they halted, made another meal upon the dried meat, then lay down and slept until the moon rose, when they pressed on again, guided by her light.

So for many weeks they journeyed on, the sun guiding them by day, the moon and stars at night, sometimes, when clouds covered these from view, obliged to lie by for hours or days; often compelled to do so from utter weakness and weariness, drinking water from the streams, and satisfying their hunger upon fish caught in them, or such game as Rupert was able to bring down with his gun or catch in snares laid for them when he and Juanita stopped for a night's rest.

He kept an account of the days of the week, and was careful to observe the rest of the Sabbath. He had brought his Bible with him, and the greater part of the day would be passed in the study of its pages and prayer to that God who is everywhere present and able to deliver from all dangers and fears. Rupert and Juanita were in a situation to feel very sensibly the need of His protecting care; for danger from wild beasts and roving bands of Indians threatened them on every side; venomous reptiles, too, often lay in their path, and they were not seldom assailed by both hunger and thirst, sometimes travelling many, many miles without finding either food or water.