“Council, eh?” said the chief trapper. “Well, we’ll have some kind of action before long. It will be either one thing or the other.” A powerful guard was placed all about the camp; but the night went by without any hostile sound from that of the Indians’; toward dawn the council fire upon the hillside died down; when the sun finally showed its great, round, red face over the top of a distant mountain, the whites, to their astonishment and relief, saw the camping ground of the foes deserted. Not a savage was to be seen anywhere. “It was a good council!” spoke Kit Carson, grimly. “Either Red Cloud is a wise chief, or his young men have good eyes for danger.” But there was no trusting the red men, who were known to be cunning foes; a party of the trappers set out upon their trail and followed it for some hours. There was no sign, by the end of that time, that the retreat was a ruse; so the trailers returned to camp. The mules were burdened with their packs of furs and camp equipment once more, and again the outfit moved down the river. “It seems a hardship to move away from the place where I know Lopez to be,” said Dave Johnson to Kit, as they rode side by side. “I feel the same way,” said Joe Frazier. “In the last hour I’ve had it on my tongue a dozen times to say to you: ‘Let’s stay where we are until we make that rascally half-breed give up his plunder.’” Kit Carson shook his head. “I understand just how it is, I think,” said he. “But to stay behind here, just the two of you, would be to throw your lives away.” He regarded them seriously for a moment, and then continued: “I’ve been thinking over this little affair of yours, and about what Spotted Snake had to say; and I’ve made up my mind that the best thing you both could do would be to go right on to Santa Fé.” Again he paused for a moment, then continued: “Your father’d be willing to pay a little to have this map returned, wouldn’t he?” “Yes,” said Joe. “That is, if we couldn’t get it any other way.” The trapper laughed. “Of course,” he said. “And we’ll try that other way first. I think it is wrong to knuckle down to the half-breed’s demands. But Santa Fé is the place to get in touch with him again, one way or the other; and I think you can ease your mind and leave this section, knowing that it’s the best thing you can do.” This sounded like logic to the boys; and so they put all uneasy thoughts behind them, and gave themselves up to the labor and excitements of the trappers’ life. Day by day the expedition continued down the Colorado, setting their traps and reaping a big harvest of beaver fur. When they reached tide-water they changed the scene of their efforts to the Gila River, which enters the Colorado at about this point; and they trapped along the Gila day after day with wonderful success until they came to the mouth of the San Pedro.