Not even a tree obscured the vision.

The exhaustion of the fugitives, from their thirty-six hours of sleeplessness and battle, and their rapid flight, was extreme.

They shot a few prairie chickens, built a small fire of dried buffalo chips with which they cooked their frugal breakfast, and then, lying down upon the rank grass, slept soundly for a few hours.
They then pressed on their pathless way toward the rising sun.

Through weary days and nights they toiled on, through rain and cold, sleeping often in stormy nights drenched, upon the bare soil, without even a blanket to cover their shivering frames.

Their feet became blistered.
Passing beyond the bounds of the open prairie, they sometimes found themselves in bogs, sometimes in tangled forests.