"Why can't I go with you?" asked Dave. "There doesn't seem to be anything for me to do here. I hate to hang around day after day doing nothing."
"If your uncle says you can go, I'd like fust-rate to have you," answered the old frontiersman.
The matter was talked over that evening. At first Joseph Morris was inclined to refuse his permission, but he finally consented, for he could see that Dave's heart was set on the trip.
"It will be a journey full of danger," he said to his nephew. "I do not know what your father would say to it. If you go, you must be careful."
"I'm always as careful as possible, Uncle Joe; and I'm sure Sam will be extra careful this trip, with the Indians on the war-path."
"It is possible that you may hear something about your father's trading-post at Detroit," went on Joseph Morris. "I cannot understand why no news has come in by way of Fort Pitt."
"Fort Pitt may be having its own hands full," suggested Rodney, who was listening to the conversation. "I only hope Uncle Jim and Henry are safe."
Fortunately for Barringford and Dave, they found a man going to one of the posts northward with a dozen horses, which had been sold to the Colonial government for military use. This man was glad enough to have the pair go along, and offered each a mount in exchange for their work in helping to care for the animals. Rodney saw them a mile on their way, and shook hands warmly with Dave on parting.
"I wish you luck," he said to his cousin and the old frontiersman. "And be sure to come back with a whole skin," he added. He understood well the perils which might lie before them.
For several days the party of three journeyed northward with but little out of the ordinary happening. The weather was fine, with just a touch of the coming summer in the air. The birds filled the forest with their music, and here and there the early flowers began to peep forth. Winter had disappeared rapidly, much to the satisfaction of both whites and red men.