“Count me in,” added Tom Gordon quickly.
“Stout lad! This is going to be dangerous work.”
“That lets me out,” protested Ben.
“Me go!” chimed in Bright Star, nodding vigorously.
“No, two ’ll be enough, as Bill says. Anyway, I need the young chief at my side, for daily talks with the Crow. That Winnebago gibberish is all Greek to me. Then too, he is the only other redskin in camp, and the Crow’s men would be sure to note his absence.”
“Mebbe Ben is right,” mused Bill. “Even with three hundred men in the troop, the canny Crow may l’arn that Tom an’ me is away; an’ git to fussin’ ’bout it.”
“If he does,” declared Dodge, “I’ll have a story for him that you’ve gone southeast, to try to make contact with Atkinson’s forces.”
“That’s a corkin’ good ideer, Colonel,” nodded Bill. “It’ll fool ol’ one-eye good an’ proper. Matter o’ fack, the White Beaver can’t be too fer off. He was due to leave Dixon’s Ferry a week ago.”
“We start tonight, sir?” asked Tom.
“By all means, if possible.”