It was finally arranged that Branson and one of the newcomers should form the escort; and so Archie, Harry, and Craig bade the girls a hurried adieu, and speedily rode away after the men.
CHAPTER XII.
ON THE WAR TRAIL.
Twelve men all told to march against a tribe consisting probably of over a hundred and fifty warriors, armed for the fight, and intoxicated with their recent success! It was a rash, an almost mad, venture; but they did not for one moment dream of drawing back. They would trust to their own superior skill to beat the enemy; trust to that fortune that so often favours the brave; trusting—many of them I hope—to that merciful Providence who protects the weak, and who, in our greatest hour of need, does not refuse to listen to our pleadings.
They had ridden some little way in silence, when suddenly Archie drew rein.
"Halt, men!" he cried. "Halt for a moment and deliberate. Who is to be the commander of this little force?"
"Yourself," said Gentleman Craig, lifting his hat "You are boss of Burley Farm, and Mr. Cooper's dearest friend."
"Hear, hear!" cried several of the others.
"Perhaps it is best," said Archie, after a moment's thoughtful pause, "that I should take the leadership under the circumstances. But, Craig, I choose you as my second in command, and one whose counsel I will respect and be guided by."
"Thank you," said Craig; "and to begin with, I move we go straight back to Findlayson's farm. We are not too well armed, nor too well provisioned."