A short time later finds the band, complete with somewhat nervous young guide riding over the range. Your saddlebags have a few well wrapped parcels of food, sent along with the well wishes of the saloon keeper.<br/><br/>The prairie is quiet as you ride, with only very occasional signs of life, as small animals scurry from beneath your horses hooves, causing the animals to snort and shy. As you crest one small rise, your guide points ahead. "Well, there it is." About another quarter mile distant, what looks like an old lightning struck tree.<br/><br/>As you ride closer you can see that it appears to be dead. No green leaves sway on its branches, just cracked wood raised towards the sky.