The Indians suddenly appeared on the shore and demanded a trade for tobacco. The little party rowed to the bank and began to parley. A guide's keen eyes saw through their smooth palaver the hostile purpose of a bloody surprise and warned the commander. The order to push into the river and pull for their lives was instantly given. With savage yells the Indians sprang into their canoes and gave chase. It was ten to one and they were sure of their prey. The chance of escape from such strong, swift rowers in light bark canoes was slight. The low fierce cries of victory and the joyous shout of coming torture rang over the waters. The Indians gained rapidly. The young Lieutenant's eye measured the distance between them and saw the race was hopeless. With quick command he ordered a huge blanket stretched in the bow for a sail. The wind was blowing a furious gale and might swamp their tiny craft. It was drowning or death by torture. The commander's choice was instantaneous. The frail boat plunged suddenly forward, swayed and surged from side to side through the angry, swirling waters, settled at last, and drew steadily away from the maddened savages. With a curious smile, the boyish commander stood in the stern and watched the black swarm of yelling devils fade in the distance. He was thinking of his old professor at West Point. His insult had been the one thing in life to which he owed most. He could see that clearly now. His heart went out in a wave of gratitude to his enemy. Our enemies are always our best friends when we have eyes to see. The winter following he was ordered down to Winnebago. The village of Chicago was the nearest center of civilization. The only way of reaching it was by wagon, and the journey consumed three months. There was much gambling in the long still nights, and some drinking. In lieu of the excitement of the gaming table, he took his fun in breaking and riding wild horses, and hairbreadth escapes were the order of his daily exercise. It was gambling, perhaps, but it developed the muscles of mind and body. His success with horses was remarkable. No animal that man has broken to his use is keener to recognize a master and flout a coward than the horse. No coward has ever been able to do anything with a spirited horse. He was wrestling one day with a particularly vicious specimen, to the terror and anguish of Jim Pemberton. "For de Lawd's sake, Marse Jeff, let dat debbil go!" "No, James, not yet--" "He ain't no count, no how--" "All the more reason why I should be his master, not he be mine."