While we were unpacking the wagon Bill told us something about the trip, which, from the point of view of the hunters, had been very successful, though commonplace enough as Bill saw it. When the examination was completed Bill asked: "What do you think of the outfit, Tom, and what will you give me for the whole caboodle?" "It's a good rig, and no mistake," replied Tom with a seemingly hopeless sigh, "but, Bill, I am afraid we haven't money enough to buy it. The outfit was all right for your purposes, but we'll have to buy a lot more things and must have some money left after buying a team and camp outfit. To buy your outfit would clean us out." "Well," said Bill, "make a bid of what you can afford to give, not what it's worth. They do not expect to get what it's worth." "It sounds like a mighty small price, Bill, and I'm ashamed to make you the offer," said Tom hesitatingly, "but two hundred dollars is as much as we can afford to give and still buy our other truck. Would your men consider such a bid as that?" "Boys, that does seem like giving the outfit away, and until I see my men I won't say whether they'll take it or not, but I'll talk for you a little and help you out all I can. They told me to sell the rig for whatever I could get, and I'll tell them that two hundred dollars is the best offer I have had--it's the only one; if they say it's a go the outfit is yours." As we stood on a corner near the levee awaiting Bill's return we heard the long, hoarse whistle of a steamboat, and saw one approaching from down the river, though still some distance away. A little later Bill came hurrying out of the hotel and gladdened our hearts by telling us that our offer had been accepted. His men were to take the approaching steamer to Saint Joe, and he must hurry back to Brown's stable and help get their fine hunting-horses aboard the boat. I counted him out the two hundred dollars, which he stuffed in his pocket without recounting. We had bought for two hundred dollars an outfit worth at least five hundred dollars. We soon had the six fine horses on board the boat. Bill went up to the cabin to turn over the money we had paid him. Soon the steamer's big bell clanged, and just as the deck-hands were about to pull in the gangplank, Bill came running out and turned and waved good-by to his employers, who stood on the hurricane-deck. In the autumn of 1861 there was no railroad in Kansas, and the nearest point to reach the cars going east from Leavenworth would have been Weston, six or eight miles above, on the Missouri side of the river. The railroad from Saint Joseph east was patrolled by Union soldiers, to protect the bridges and keep it open for travel. CHAPTER IV BACK TO THE BUFFALO RANGE As we started back up-town Bill exclaimed gleefully: