As they started, Hugh shook his head and said, "Good Lord, what a terrible thing it is to be mixed up with pilgrims. That lad out there has no more idea of the danger he brought on us all than a chicken just out of the shell, and I reckon his father hasn't, either. If I hadn't happened to know some of that bunch of Indians, we never would have gotten off as easy as we did."
"I guess not," replied Jack; "and I can tell you I'm mighty glad to see those Indians go. I don't know whether it's just plain prudence, or whether I've got some feeling of responsibility about these English people, but I'm sure I don't want to fight these Utes a bit. Two or three years ago I would have felt differently. Do you remember, Hugh, how crazy I was to go off on a war party with Joe and Bull Calf and some of that outfit, one summer up with the Piegans?"
"Yes," answered Hugh, "I remember it. You thought I treated you pretty badly, I guess, that time."
"Yes," said Jack, "I did. But I've been mighty glad a good many times since. Now we can watch these Utes and see them a long way off. If they pass over that farthest hill, we can start from here before dark, and they can't catch us before we get out of the Park."
"That's right," said Hugh. "Now let's unload and give these horses a chance to feed and rest, and then about sundown we'll start, and ride all night if we have to."
The horses were speedily stripped and picketed out on the meadow where the grazing was good, and then Jack and Hugh returned to the edge of the grove, and sat there watching the retreating group of Indians, whose figures grew smaller and smaller as the distance increased.
They were doing just what they had agreed to do, and an hour and a half later the band were passing over the most distant crest, and Hugh, counting them through the field glasses, declared that the number was just what it had been when he talked to them.
Now the animals were brought in, loaded, and the train swiftly set in motion. They rode all night, and the next morning at daylight camped on the Laramie River, well out of reach of any trouble with the Utes. Two days later they were at Laramie, and there Hugh and Jack regretfully parted with their English friends, who returned to Denver by rail, shipping their horses also on the railroad.
Jack and Hugh turned their faces westward, and a little more than a week later were showing their catch of fur to Mr. Sturgis at the ranch.
"But, son," said Hugh, "we didn't half trap. We ought to have loaded at least two horses with beaver."