The chief had paused, uncertain; and now his followers paused. The Hee-Haw wagon, flanked by its body-guard, with the mules snorting and straining but controlled by Davy, pressed on. In a moment the chief rode back to his band, and all went cantering away.
“Lucky for them they didn’t try to make us trouble,” boasted Left-over, changing his tune but still suspiciously pale. “We’d have shown ’em!”
“Lucky for us, you mean,” growled Hi. “If once those fellows had got in amongst us and started to crowding us thar’s no knowing what mightn’t have happened. That’s the mistake lots of these emigrants make. They try to parley and give presents, thinking they’re buying the Injuns off; and fust thing they know they’re overrun and helpless and lose their whole outfit.”
“Were you scared up there, Dave?” called Billy.
“No. Were you down there?” retorted Dave.
“Not so anybody noticed it, I hope,” answered Billy.
“Well, one thing’s certain,” said Jim. “We’ve got wuss ahead of us than Injuns, I reckon. Water’s petered out.”
Before their eyes the shallow head-waters of the Smoky Hill Fork disappeared abruptly, as if soaking down through the sand of its bed. Davy checked his mules while Hi and the others surveyed before. Not a token of water showed beyond or as far as they could see.
Billy Cody had promptly trudged on in the advance; and now he shouted and waved.
“Trail forks,” he reported. “One fork keeps on, other turns off to the right.”