It did not take them long to catch and pack their horses. Jack tied up his new riding-horse with the pack-animals, and John Monroe's wife said that she would see that they were all driven on. Then Hugh started off to join the head of the column which had already begun to cross the river, while Jack mounted Pawnee, and rode about through the camp. It was very amusing to him to watch the various operations that were going on. Women were constantly completing the work of packing and starting off with their families, to follow those who had gone on before, so that there was a continuous stream of people heading toward the river, entering it, crossing and clambering out on the other side. The trail climbed a steep bluff there, and the long line of people that followed it, made Jack think of a brightly coloured serpent slowly making its way up the hillside.
At last he tired of the scenes of the camp, and riding to the river, joined the procession that was crossing it. Once on the other side, he turned Pawnee out of the trail, and rode on rapidly toward the head of the column where he joined Hugh. Twenty-five or thirty old and middle-aged men were in the lead, and behind them rode more than a hundred young men on fine horses, handsomely dressed, and well armed. A few of them carried rifles; many others double-barrel shot-guns, but a great many were provided only with bows and arrows which they now carried in cases on their backs.
"Oh! Hugh," said Jack, as he rode up, "are these young men here the soldiers?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "they're the soldiers. They all belong to one of the secret societies, the Mŭt'siks, that means brave. As I was saying to you last night, if the chiefs want anything done they tell these young fellows to have it done. There's quite a long story about these different secret societies, and some night when we have plenty of time, we'll have to get some of the old men to tell us these stories. You see, usually, they don't talk much about these things to white folks, but I've heard 'most all the stories, and likely they wouldn't mind telling them to you. You see, one reason an Indian don't like to talk about sacred things to white men, is, that he's afraid the white man will laugh at him, but of course they know you wouldn't do that any more than I would."
"I should think not," said Jack, "I'd be so pleased to hear anything that they were willing to tell me, that I don't think I'd laugh at it even if it were real funny."
"No," said Hugh, "of course you oughtn't to. Of course, some of these things that the Indians believe sound ridiculous to us white folks, but they're mighty real to them, and they believe in them just as we believe in a whole lot of things that likely would sound mighty ridiculous to them. Some of them bible stories for example. You couldn't get an Indian to believe them, and yet white folks think it's all so."
"You mean the miracles?" said Jack.
"Yes, I expect that's it."
After a little pause Jack asked Hugh, "What are those men doing that I see crossing the hills ahead of us, Hugh?"