Major Dismuke's nervousness became clearly visible. "Gentlemen," he said, "I beg you to take the mule and leave camp." "Well," said Ellis, with a fine show of reluctance, "of course if you insist...." "I will be grateful," said the major. "Well, in that case," said Ellis. Joe looked from one to the other in honest amazement. Never had he seen a ticklish situation so quickly resolved. But what about payment? "Look here, Major," he said, "if you'll just tell me how much you want for this--" "The Army doesn't sell mules," Major Dismuke barked. "Regulations," said Ellis politely. The major threw him a sharp look. Then he added some hasty advice. "It is my duty to advise you that the Indians in this section are restless. If you go on, you risk meeting hostiles." "We'll still go on," said Ellis. Major Dismuke halted and when they had drawn away from him Ellis said softly, "Sorry, Joe, but we have to get out of here." "Yes, we have to get out." "It wasn't really a lie." "Ellis, let's face it. It was a lie. But we had to tell it. As soon as we get set, we're sending that mule back." "All right with me. But let's get set." The youngsters scrambled back into the wagon. Joe untied the team and climbed up on the wagon seat. He was not happy, for the baby was still feverish, but he was relieved. Emma wouldn't care to stay anywhere near this fort as long as the baby was ill. It was too rough, and the wagon was better. Somehow and somewhere Joe would get another mule and send this one back. He shook his head. Ellis's quick wit in raising the smallpox scare had averted what would have been an intolerable situation. They stopped for lunch, and drove on. Ellis rode ahead to scout and Joe's sick heart throbbed when the baby babbled in delirium. A few minutes later, Emma spoke softly, "Joe, we must stop. She's very bad." He was about to swing the mules to one side of the Trail when Ellis rode back. Ellis swung his horse in beside the wagon and looked up at Joe. "How is the youngster?" "Emma says bad. We have to stop." "There's a good creek about a quarter mile ahead and a meadow only a little ways up the creek. It's a better place than this if we're going to camp." "Hear that, Emma?" Joe called. "Want to go there?" She said, "I think it will be better. There'll be no interruptions if we're off the Trail." The mules plodded down the Trail to the creek. Sparkling, clear and cold, it trickled out of a shallow little gully and flowed across the Trail to lose itself in trees on the other side. The west bank was tree-lined, but tall grass grew on the east bank and laid a soft carpet back to the line of trees. Joe saw trout lingering in a pool. Ellis swung his horse from the Trail up a grassy embankment. "Follow me," he called. "The wagon can get up here."