If they gave him rein he would find the way,
Found it and led them back, poor fool,
To last night's camp in that lonely land.
It was February when he rode
Into St. Louis. The gaping crowd
Gathered about him with questions loud
And eager. He raised one frozen hand
With a gesture of silent, proud command;
"I am here to ask, not answer! Tell
Me quick, is the Treaty signed?" "Why yes!