“Powerful bad. Wust I ’bout ever seed.”
“To make it tougher,” pondered the officer, “this has been a wet year. Perhaps that confounded Crow is figuring to lure us into some impassable bog, where the Sac snakes can swallow us at leisure.”
“I’m afeared so, Colonel. The Injuns know this swamp country like you know the palm o’ yer hand. Ther’s many a likely place fer ambush.”
Dodge was silent for a few moments, watching the making of the camp. He called a subordinate and gave orders that double the usual number of sentinels be posted.
“Furthermore,” he said, gritting his big, white teeth, “I’m sending scouts ahead of the column, several miles ahead, unbeknown, of course, to the White Crow and his skins.”
“What the Crow don’t know, won’t hurt him,” grunted Bill.
“The Crow looks uncommon sharp, for all his one eye,” observed Ben Gordon. “He may notice that scouts are missing from the troop.”
“That’s so, boy,” Dodge admitted. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“A couple o’ scouts ’ll do the trick, Colonel,” stated Brown, “an’ two ain’t apt to be missed. I volunteer fer one.”
“Good! I had you in mind.”