“What help can we get?”
“Play the old game here, and set Injuns to fighting Injuns. Send for a war-party of the Nez Perces.”
“Will they fight against this Indian Prophet?” asked Gardiner, doubtfully.
“They’ll fight against the Yakimas, Umatillas, and Cayuses, who are likely to side with him, and if they ’tend to them, we can take care of the Smohollers.”
“But where can we find a party of these Nez Perces?”
“There’s generally some of ’em at Fort Walla Walla, as their country is the other side of the Blue Mountains. I’m thinking it might be our best plan to go back to the fort, and strengthen our party for a fresh start.”
“Or you might go to the fort and see what you could do in the way of obtaining a reinforcement among the friendly Indians,” suggested Gardiner. “I am confident that I could hold this position until you return. Let us consult the surveyors, and get their ideas upon the subject.”
“Very good—two heads are better than one. Let’s have a council of war on the subject. Holloa! What’s up now?”
This question was caused by a sudden commotion in the camp, in the direction of the river. They hurried to the bank. A young Indian, whose dress proclaimed him a chief, was riding his horse across the river. He had proclaimed himself a friend to the sentinels, and was suffered to advance unmolested.
“It is Multuomah!” exclaimed Glyndon.