“I’m with you, sergeant,” blurted Terry Miller.
“None better,” accepted the sergeant. “We’ll go on back to the Arkansaw, cap’n, for the hosses. And with the hosses we’ll pick up John and Tom, and if they can’t ride we’ll sling ’em in litters.”
Lieutenant Pike colored with pleasure.
“That is handsome of you, sergeant; and of you, Miller. You will march as soon as Stout and Menaugh get in, and we can make the preparations. Your volunteering for a journey afoot of almost two hundred miles over two ranges of mountains waist deep in snow, at the risk of encountering savages, and soldiers of a nation that may not be friendly, is worthy of the uniform that you have worn.”
“By your leave, sir, there are some others who’d be proud to share the honor with the sergeant and Terry,” spoke up Jake Carter, crippled though he was. “I’ll answer for my feet, sir. They’ll carry me, once I limber ’em up.”
“Two will be enough. I’m sorry that I can’t spare more, my man. I see that if you all had your way you’d leave me without a garrison.”
Sergeant Meek and Terry felt highly tickled at having got in ahead of the rest.
The next morning Hugh and Freegift arrived all right. The other two were to start early on the morrow. Ten pounds of deer meat apiece was all that might be spared them; they said it was plenty—they had to travel light, anyway, and would hunt as they went.
The lieutenant, with Corporal Jackson, John Mountjoy and William Gordon and Stub, walked with them for six miles, so that they might be shown a better pass for the horses, than the one used by the corporal. Jerry had reported that his pass was four feet deep with snow, during three days’ travel.
After the sergeant and Terry had trudged on, the others killed a deer; Stub and Corporal Jerry were sent back with it, to the stockade, but the lieutenant took John and Bill with him, on a farther scout, down the east side of the main river.