“Perhaps your guard saved you,” said the commandant of the fort. “But, remember, it will be different when you go westward from here. The Indians are surely gathering in the West, and what they intend to do, Heaven alone knows. Were I you I should at least wait until spring before venturing further.” Dave would not listen to this, and Henry sided with his impatient cousin, knowing well how anxious Dave was to learn the truth concerning his father. Joseph Morris realized the situation, and it must be admitted that he, too, was anxious, since his brother had been very dear to him. A consultation was held, and it was resolved that the expedition should rest at Fort Pitt until over Sunday—four days—and then push forward as before. The coming of the expedition to Fort Pitt brought a smile to the face of Peaceful Jones, who was slowly recovering from the privation to which he had been exposed. “It’s an outright shame I can’t go with ye!” said the old trapper, with a profound sigh. “Wouldn’t like no better fun nor to lick Jean Bevoir an’ his crowd good!” “Don’t worry about thet, Peaceful,” answered Sam Barringford. “Only give us the chance an’ we’ll lick Bevoir an’ his crowd good an’ proper, believe me!” “Thet feller ain’t fit to be on this airth, Sam—he’s wuss nor a snake in the grass!” “I agree with ye, Peaceful, an’ when I git through with him he’ll be wuss off nor any snake ye ever heard tell on,” concluded the old frontiersman. From Fort Pitt the expedition took to the trail James Morris had followed in journeying to his trading post. The January thaw was a thing of the past, and once again cold weather, with several heavy falls of snow, reigned supreme. The trail was in spots all but impassable, and on more than one occasion they had to literally dig the horses out of the drifts into which they wandered. Twice they had to go into camp for two days at a time—to rest up and wait for the skies to clear. It was a wearisome and courage-testing journey, as even stout-limbed Sam Barringford testified. “It’s pure grit an’ nuthin else is goin’ to carry us through,” said he. “Fer this travelin’ ain’t fit fer a dog.” “There is one comfort,—it is keeping the Indians away from us,” answered Joseph Morris. “They won’t venture very far from their villages in this sort of weather.” But Joseph Morris was mistaken. All unknown to the whites, the red men were watching their movements closely. Even though the expedition had left Fort Pitt under cover of darkness the Indians had discovered them on the western trail early in the morning, and now speedy runners were carrying the news to various villages for fifty miles around.