“Men,” he addressed, clearly, “to-morrow we break camp, for the outward trail again. We’re well armed, we know how to take care of ourselves, in a fight, and Mr. Bissonette, head agent at Fort Platte, has agreed to go with us, as far as we need him, as interpreter. He is a friend of the Sioux and Blackfeet, and can talk with them if we meet them. But as to these threats by the Indians and these rumors of danger, you know as well as I do how much they can be relied upon. You’ve all been in the Indian country before; you can’t expect to travel in it and not risk a fight or two. In fact, you knew it before we left St. Louis. You knew there that the Sioux and Blackfeet were unsettled, in the Laramie region. I’m going on, right on, ready for peace or war. I don’t see any good and sufficient reason why any of you should break your engagement with the government and me; but I don’t want anybody in my party who feels afraid or repents of his bargain. Let him step forward at once, and I’ll release him with his discharge and his pay up to date.” There was an instant of silence, broken by a laugh as one man arose, and defiantly stood. “You wish to stay, do you?” demanded Lieutenant Frémont. The man nodded. “Are you sick, perhaps?” “No.” “Tired, then.” “Yes.” “You did not know that the South Pass was beyond Fort John, I presume!” pursued the lieutenant, sarcastically――creating another laugh. The man maintained sulky silence, hanging his head. “Well, my poor fellow, we are very sorry for you,” continued the officer. “You are welcome to your pay and discharge, and you can be making garden at the post so as to have nice vegetables ready for us when we come back!” Thus having ridiculed him, the lieutenant asked, generally: “Is there anybody else who is tired in heart or feet?” None answered――for which Oliver was glad. “Humph!” criticised Randolph, as the three boys trudged off to visit the post. “Wish now they’d take us instead. But they won’t. I’ve got to stay and wind the old chronometers every day!” The next morning Oliver (accompanied by the envious and disconsolate Henry and Randolph) was paying another visit to the fort. Lieutenant Frémont, and Kit Carson and Lucien Maxwell and several of the French trappers in the Frémont company had entered the office of Mr. Boudeau, the agent, as if to say good-by; when through the gate and across the court, for the office, stalked, with great dignity, half a dozen Sioux――all chiefs. They were finely built men, several of them old. A clerk at the door of the office would wave them away; but they acted as if they did not see him, and past him they shouldered, and on in. “Come on!” whispered Randolph, to his comrades. “There’s something up. They’re from Fort Platte, at the Platte River a mile below. I’ve seen ’em there.” So, the way apparently being open, in after the Indians sidled the boys.