If they had known as much about Indians then as they afterward learned, Capt. Conkey's response, instead of assuring them, would have made them insist upon an escort, which Booth in his official capacity had the power to order; but they were satisfied, and concluded to push on. Jumping into the wagon, Lieut. Hallowell took the lines, and away they went, rattling over the old log bridge that used to span the Walnut, as light of heart as if riding to a dance. It was a clear cold morning, with a stiff breeze blowing from the northwest; their trail was frozen hard in some places, and was very rough, caused by the travel of heavy trains when it was wet.
Booth sat on the left side with the whip in his hand, occasionally striking the animals to keep their speed. Hallowell struck up a tune (he was a good singer), and Booth joined in as they rolled along, as oblivious of danger as though they were in their quarters at Riley.
After they had proceeded some distance, Hallowell remarked, "The buffalo are grazing a long distance from the road to-day—a circumstance which I think bodes no good." He had been on the Plains the summer before, and was better acquainted with the Indians and their peculiarities than Capt. Booth; but the latter replied that he "thought it was because their escort had gone along ahead, and had probably frightened them away." The next mile or two was passed, and still they saw no buffalo between the trail and the river; but nothing more was said relative to the suspicious circumstance, and they rolled rapidly on.
When about five or six miles from Zarah, on glancing toward the river, to the left and front, Booth saw something that looked strangely like a drove of turkeys; he watched them intently for a few minutes, when they rose up, and he discovered they were horsemen. He grasped Hallowell's left arm, and directed his attention to them, saying, "What's that?" Hallowell cast a hasty look to the point indicated, and replying, "Indians, by George!" immediately turned the mules and started them back toward Fort Zarah on a full gallop.
"Hold on," said Booth; "maybe it is a part of our escort."
"No, no," replied Hallowell; "I know it's Indians."
"Well," replied Booth, "I am going to see;" so, stepping out on the footboard and holding onto the front bow, he looked back over the top of the wagon. There was no doubt now that they were Indians. They had fully emerged from the ravines in which they were hidden, and while he was looking were slipping their buffalo robes from their shoulders, taking arrows out of their quivers, drawing up their spears, and making ready generally for a red-hot time. While Booth was intently watching their hostile movements, Hallowell asked, "They are Indians, aren't they?"
"Yes," replied Booth, "and they are coming like blazes!"
"Oh, dear!" said Hallowell, in a despairing tone; "I shall never see poor Lizzie again." He had been married for only a few weeks, and his young wife's name was Lizzie.