Rob, who was familiar with the location of every cabin in the settlement, was immediately despatched on a fresh horse to call on the people and communicate the result of the conference. He was to tell them where to go in the event of the Indians coming into Oxhide valley after the scouting party had left for the Elkhorn.
There were about thirty men who were obliged to remain at home; too old to undertake the fatigue of the long night's ride contemplated. They were all excellent shots, many of them having been pioneers in the settlement of the states east of the Mississippi when they constituted the far West.
When all the men who could be mustered for the expedition had arrived at Errolstrath, there were about fifty. Old man Tucker was unanimously chosen for their leader, with the title, by courtesy, of captain. He was a man nearly sixty-five years old, but had been early recognized by the settlers of the valley as one to whom they could look whenever the affairs of the neighborhood demanded the exercise of good judgment or sound advice. He was well educated, having graduated at Yale, but after graduation a quarrel with his father resulted in his drifting out on the frontier, where his life had been that of a trapper and hunter. He was as active as any of the young men, so his age in this case did not militate against him. He was the best rifle-shot in the valley, and if, like Davy Crockett, he failed to hit a squirrel in the eye, "it didn't count!"
The stranger from Spillman Creek was named Alderdyce, as he had informed Mr. Thompson while on the trip with him, and, as many of those who now met him for the first time desired to hear his story, he related the details of the horrid massacre again. At its sickening recital a majority became impatient of delay, and wanted to start on the trail of the savages at once, although the whole valley was flooded with the golden glow of sunset.
Joe stood modestly in the crowd, eagerly drinking in the awful story told by Mr. Alderdyce, and he noticed how anxious the scouting party was to get away. He knew that this would be the height of absurdity until night had closed in, and in all probability would defeat the very object of the expedition, so he ventured to suggest that it would be better to wait until after dark.
Old Mr. Tucker knew as well as the boy's father that Joe's judgment in matters relating to savage methods when on the war-path was far in advance of his sixteen years. His ideas and opinions commanded a consideration his age did not otherwise warrant, so the keen observation he had developed since his intimacy with the Pawnees, and the astuteness he had imbibed from them, caused Mr. Tucker to ask the boy's reasons for his suggestion.
Joe replied hesitatingly: "I believe it's better to wait until dark. The runners, as their spies are called, of the hostile band, are, I honestly think, at this moment stationed on some of the highest points of the valley. They are watching to learn if there will be any demonstration made against the raiding band from this settlement. If this is true, and I believe it is, they should not be permitted to see our party start out. If they do discover that a number of mounted men are riding on the prairie, they will hang on their trail, keep the main band warned of every movement, and you could not effect anything. In that case you might as well stay at home."
Upon these hints so forcibly thrown out by Joe, nearly every one at once coincided with his opinion, and the captain decided to act upon the boy's judgment.
Joe, who was always an attentive listener, rarely obtruded his ideas into the conversation of his elders; in reality he was of rather a reticent disposition, a trait generally indicative of bravery, but he was ever ready to venture an opinion when asked for it, fearlessly and in great earnestness. So during the discussion of the supposed details of the morning's massacre, Captain Tucker asked him what he thought of the probability of the savages coming down to the Elkhorn from the scene of their raid on the Spillman.
"Well, Mr. Tucker," replied Joe, "distance is never considered by an Indian. If a band start on a raid and are successful at the beginning, they will keep on a dozen miles or five hundred; it makes no difference to them; they'll wear out any animal but a wolf. If the massacre was complete, as Mr. Alderdyce thinks, they will probably keep right on murdering, scalping, and firing the cabins, until they get a setback. My own opinion is that they will go down to the Elkhorn or some other place where there is a settlement, and if successful again, will continue on and come to the Oxhide, perhaps, now they have tasted blood. But if they have met with a repulse anywhere, or learn that the United States troops are after them, they may abandon their raid and be now a hundred miles on the trail to their village."