“Yes; and about three hundred Injuns charged _them_, and there’d have been shooting if Mr. Maxwell hadn’t recognized one of the Injuns and shouted, just in time: ‘You old fool! Don’t you know me?’ Then they all shook hands, and went to the Indian village. They were Arapahoe Indians.” “What’s this expedition for, anyway?” ventured Oliver. “I’ll tell you,” proffered Randolph. “I know because Lieutenant Frémont married my sister――――” “And his father’s Senator Benton of Missouri, too,” further explained Henry. “We’re second cousins. That’s why we were taken along, I guess.” “Well, I’ve heard the talk, at our house in Washington, anyway,” resumed Randolph, interrupted. “It’s claimed to be an army expedition sent out by the Secretary of War to examine the country between the Missouri frontiers and the Rocky Mountains, and to get the latitude and longitude of the South Pass; but my father and some other men in Congress hope it will encourage colonists over into Oregon by describing the way to get there.” “Have you been to the South Pass?” asked Henry, of Oliver. “No, not yet; but most of our men have. That’s the big pass on the regular trapper and trader trail, over the Rockies from this side to the other side. Everybody knows the South Pass.” “Wish we were going on,” repeated Henry, wistfully. “But I guess it’s mighty serious when Kit Carson makes his will.” “Did he?” “Yes. You see, our party met a party under Jim Bridger――you know Jim Bridger, another trapper captain? (Oliver nodded.) And they all said the country beyond Laramie isn’t safe, because the Sioux swear they’ll kill every white man they find there. That scared our men pretty bad, and Kit Carson got alarmed, too; and at the fort he made his will, so that in case he’s killed his little girl he left in St. Louis at school will be provided for. She’s half Indian.” “Well, he’ll go on, though, if Frémont goes on,” asserted Oliver, stoutly. “Of course. That’s why he made his will. He’s sensible. It isn’t because he’s afraid.” When supper was practically over with, and the men had lighted their pipes for a few minutes preceding night chores, a figure stepped into the midst of the lounging groups and lifted his arm, for attention. It was a slender, quick figure――that of Lieutenant Frémont.