“Yes, indeed. I just arranged it for him. He thought he might be left behind and he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from us.”
“How far is it to Fort Winnebago from here?” Joseph inquired of John Mason.
“Nearly eighty miles, I should say.”
“What do we care?” cried Robert. “We’re going to leave this hole and that is enough to make me cheerful again.”
“You’ll strike worse holes than this on the way to Fort Winnebago,” cautioned Mason. “We may all wish we were back here again before many days have passed.”
“It’s a change anyway,” Robert persisted. “That is the principal thing just at present.”
An hour later the start for Fort Winnebago was made. The journey was a hard one and it was with a great feeling of relief that the troops finally reached their destination. At the fort were many Winnebago Indians who were eager to give advice to the white chiefs.
“No trust them,” said Deerfoot earnestly in speaking of these offers. “They fool white men too much already.”
“I wouldn’t trust them either,” exclaimed Robert hotly. “It seems to me we ought to know better by this time.”
The four scouts were seated together at one end of the enclosure discussing the future plans of the army. They were tired from their long trip and as a consequence were low in spirits. The rest of the men seemed to share their feelings and many were anxious to give up the struggle and go home.