Kit Carson, Lieutenant Frémont, Lucien Maxwell and Basil Lajeunesse stepped out and received the approaching four. A brief conference was held only a dozen yards beyond the bank rampart. The twain Sioux were painted and half naked (save for the paint on their chests); they seemed sullen and unresponsive, and spoke with few words and many sign-gestures. Mr. Bissonette eked out their tale, and in the fort Trapper New kept pace for the benefit of Oliver and the others. “Been on war path, up Sweetwater; looking for scalps――need scalps to make their dead warriors happy by a dance, an’ to dry up the tears o’ the women (wagh!); too many white people in their country; overtook party o’ whites (emigrants, I reckon) at Indypendence Rock on Sweetwater; Broken Hand (Oliver knew that this meant Thomas Fitzpatrick again) war leading party; half o’ Sioux wanted to attack, half didn’t; these two war in half that did want to――――” “Give it to ’em, boys!” “Feed ’em Galena pills!” “Lift their ha’r!” “Tirez! Tirez! (Fire! Shoot!)” “Des coups de baguettes pour les scoundrels! (Shots for the scoundrels!)” Thus rose the indignant cries, at the announcement. But Frémont turned and raised his hand commandingly; and the cries died to a mutter. “They war in the half that did want to,” continued Trapper New. “Finally, the war party busted, seeing they couldn’t agree, an’ have scattered. Most went over into Crow country, north, after Crow scalps an’ hosses; rest air travelling back down the Platte. Thar’s no grass an’ no buff’ler.” Lieutenant Frémont and the others were conducting the two Sioux around the bank and into the little fort. Still sullen, the visitors were permitted to gaze about, and see how angry and well-armed were this white company. Then they were given a present of tobacco and told to go. “Wall,” remarked the quiet voice of Kit Carson, as, among his men, for a moment he reflectively watched the two Sioux ride off as if glad to escape, “I’ve fought Injuns an’ they’ve fought me, in mountains an’ on plains, for over fifteen year, now――but sometimes I don’t blame ’em. ’Tain’t natural for ’em to sit by an’ let their country be occupied by whites――their country that they’ve owned. An’ that’s what it means――this settler travel to Oregon: it means white people on both sides the mountains. Beaver air thinned, buff’ler air getting scarce, an’ some day thar won’t be any room for the Injun. An’ they suspect it. Pore critters!” VII OVER THE FAMED SOUTH PASS “The best advice that I can give you is to turn back at once,” declared Mr. Bissonette, flatly, to Lieutenant Frémont.