We walked on, chatting about the beauty of the country, which every minute grew more open; and I was listening full of interest, when Esau gave my jacket a tug.
“I say, who is he?” came in a whisper.
“Don’t know. Going to show us the way to the Fort.”
“Is it much further?”
“Oh no,” I whispered back; “only a mile or two.”
“Thank goodness,” murmured Esau; “I am getting so tired.”
It proved to be only about a mile and a half, or, as I ought to call it in that country of no roads and many climbs and descents, about three-quarters of an hour’s walk, before we came upon a wide, open spot, dotted with trees like a park, through which the river ran, making a sharp elbow, at the corner of which there was what seemed to be a high fence, with square wooden buildings at two of the corners. These took my attention directly, for they looked like strong, square, wooden towers, trying to be like the sides of a man-of-war, inasmuch as they were fitted with portholes, out of which projected the muzzles of small cannon. I could see that there was a rough trail leading up to a grim gateway in the square fence, and that the nearer we got to the place, the bigger and stronger that fence looked, and that inside was quite a large square with huts and other buildings, and what seemed to be a garden, beside which there were cultivated fields with corn growing and potatoes, outside.
“So that’s Fort Elk, is it?” said Gunson, thoughtfully. “Why, I suppose you could stand quite a siege there from the Indians.”
“We could, and have done so before now.”
“But what about fire?” continued Gunson.