“An’ by the everlastin’ Kinnikinnick, I don’t b’lieve his fam’ly ’ld grieve much ’bout him, if he’s in the habit o’ singin’ that tune ’round home!” growled a tall angular ox-driver, resting his arm upon the yoke and whipping the water from his fur-cap, with the butt of his gad. “Did anybody on earth ever hear such a dang caterwaulin’? Whew, but I’m cold an’ hungry! “Drivin’ oxen ain’t to my likin’—not, by a dang sight! But here I am doin’ menial servitude fer my country, when I never disgraced myself by doin’ anything o’ the kind fer Joe Farley. ’Pears that I’ve become the plaything o’ fate—it does, by Melindy! Come out here to fight Injins an’ help save the gover’ment; an’ they’ve set me to whackin’ bulls. By my gran’mother’s goggles, I ain’t a-goin’ to stand it! I’ll desert an’ go over to the redskins, bag an’ baggage! ’Tain’t fair—’tain’t. Jest ’cause a driver gits sick an’ has to be left at Fort Harrison, they take an’ put me in his place. I ort to be out scoutin’ with Ross Douglas an’ Bright Wing. An’ I would ’ave been—dang it!—but my limber tongue got the best o’ me an’ let out that I’d druv oxen, w’en a boy. “Well, ther’s one consolation, anyhow. We’re purty near to the end o’ our journey; an’ then I’ll git to tote a rifle ag’in an’ feel like a man. Whoa, there, you brindle-hided brute! What in the dangnation ’re you tryin’ to _do_? Think you can crawl through that bow? Whoa, I say! Bless my peepers, if I ever _did_ see such a c’ntrary critter, anyhow! _Whoa_, now!” And Farley applied the gad to the ribs of the lank ox, as though he were energetically beating a bass drum. At the head of the long column, a little knot of mounted officers were holding a consultation in low tones. The central figure of the group was a tall, spare man of middle age. He sat his horse—a wiry chestnut sorrel of trim form and slender limbs—with the ease and grace of a practiced and fearless horseman. His nose was large; his smooth-shaven features were irregular. But his face was redeemed from plainness by a pair of dark, penetrating eyes and a mouth indicative of courage and resolution. Intelligence and benevolence beamed from his rugged countenance. He wore the uniform of the United States army; and his arms consisted of a brace of pistols and a sword. Shaking the rain-drops from his military cocked hat, he replaced it atop his dark wavy hair and remarked: “I’m loath to camp here—especially as none of the scouts have returned to inform us of the designs and movements of the enemy. We are nearing the hostile village, I’m certain. It can’t be many miles away. Here we have the open plain on three sides of us. We should be unprotected from a surprise; and as you well know, Colonel Boyd, a surprise is what we have to fear—a surprise in the early morning when the troops are soundly sleeping. I would prefer a more sheltered place. And it gives me some concern, that none of the scouts have yet returned. I can’t understand it.”