If the party with the wagon train had consisted only of men he would have had nothing to say. They could have taken their chances, as men should.
But the thought of the danger to which May and Gertrude would be exposed worried him greatly. He was only too familiar with the tortures which the Indians were accustomed to inflict upon helpless women or any other white captives who might chance to fall into their hands.
Yet it was evidently hopeless to try to induce Mr. Doyle to change his opinion and abandon his journey. The border king was a good reader of faces and of character, and he could see quite clearly that there was a strain of obstinacy in the old man’s nature which would make him reject the best advice if it did not happen to coincide with his preconceived opinions.
“How many men have you with your wagon train?” asked the scout.
“There are four of them, not counting Norfolk Ben,” replied the old man.
“What sort of men are they?”
“They are all old frontiersmen, who have been many journeys on the overland trail.”
“Who is their boss?”
“An old man named Jake Wallace.”