In view of the new task he had before him—the end of which he felt that he could not possibly foresee—he was particularly careful to choose the best men among his corps of scouts and Pawnee friendlies.
He also saw to it that all the men were well mounted, with spare horses, and that they carried an ample supply of ammunition and dried meat for food.
This last detail surprised his great friend and comrade, Nick Wharton, who formed one of the party, as did also Wild Bill, the famous scout who at that time was only second to Buffalo Bill himself in reputation as a hunter and Indian fighter.
“What are ye thinkin’ about, Buffler?” growled old Nick. “I never seed sich a gol-durned lot of meat stocked up by a huntin’ party in all my born days. We might be goin’ ter hit the trail right across the plains ter Californy. Don’t ye think we know enough by this time ter be able ter shoot fur our grub?”
“Everybody knows that you can, Nick—if there’s any game around,” Buffalo Bill replied to this protest, smiling enigmatically. “But you never can tell whether we’ll find any. We may not see hoof or hide of a buffalo for several days. Besides—other things may happen.”
Nick Wharton, unconvinced, went off, growling, to attend to the saddling of his horse.
Buffalo Bill did not wish to take even his two best friends, old Nick and Wild Bill, into his confidence concerning the delicate task with which he had been intrusted.
If he came up with the wagon train—regarding which he had very little doubt, as he knew the course it must take, and it would necessarily have a broad, clear trail—he hoped to be able to persuade Mr. Doyle to return, without having recourse to actual violence.
That being the case, it would be unwise to tell anybody of the lengths to which he felt authorized to go in case of necessity. He allowed all the men, even Jack Mainwaring, to think that there was nothing more in the expedition than a simple hunting trip.