“You say that you love the whites; why have you killed so many already this spring? You say you love the whites, and you are full of words about friendship; but you are unwilling to undergo the fatigue of a few days’ ride to save our lives! We do not believe what you have said; we will listen to you no more. Whatever a chief among us tells his soldiers to do, is done. We obey our chiefs. We are soldiers of the great chief your father. He has told us to come out here, and see this country and all the Indians, his children. Why should we not go on and do it? Before we came, we heard that you had killed his people and wanted to be his children no longer; but we came anyway, holding out our hands in peace. Now we find that the stories we heard are not lies, and that your young men are on the war-path and you are no more his friends and children. But we have thrown away our bodies, and will not turn back. When you told us that your young men would kill us, you did not know that our hearts were strong, and you did not count the rifles that my young men carry in their hands. We may be few, and you are many, in numbers, and you may think to kill us; but if you try there will be much crying of women in your villages, for many of your young men will stay behind and forget to return with the others from the mountains. Do you think that our great chief will let his soldiers die, and will not cover their graves? Before the snows melt again his warriors will have swept away your villages as the fires in autumn sweep the prairies. Look around. See! I have pulled down my white lodges and my people are ready: when the sun is ten paces higher, we shall be on the march. If you have anything new to tell us, you should say it soon. I am done.” With that the lieutenant turned his back, and strode out; after him strode Kit Carson and Lucien Maxwell and all, even the agent, with the three boys forming the rear. Presently, at decent interval, filed forth the chiefs, blanket shrouded; they crossed the court and passed through the gate, for the lodges without. “That was a good speech, wasn’t it!” praised Randolph. “And he means what he says, too.” “Guess you start right away,” said Henry; for Lieutenant Frémont had immediately mounted his horse, at the post gate, and was dashing for the camp, followed by the other men. So, hastily vaulting into their own saddles, with a whoop the three boys, abreast, raced after. VI INTO THE WILDER WEST Oliver secretly was pleased to see that Kit Carson, scouring the plain like a centaur, soon overtook the lieutenant. No rider could beat Kit. However, neck and neck they galloped into the camp, and simultaneously checked their horses short. “All right. En avant!” cried Frémont, his voice ringing keenly. And Kit Carson shouted to his own squad: “Ketch up, boys!”