Of course there were many reports. One rumor declared that he had gone to Texas by request of President Jackson, to make treaties with the Comanches and the other Texas Indians, for the United States. This rumor afterwards proved true. Another rumor said that he had been asked by the President to investigate the people and affairs in Texas, and to see what the likelihood was that it would separate from Mexico. This rumor also afterwards seemed to be proved true. But John Henry, another trader at Fort Gibson, stated: “Sam Houston has gone to Texas to stay. He’s been intending that a long time. And not six months ago he said to me, on the bank of the Grand River: ‘Henry, let’s go to Texas. I’m tired of this country and sick of this life. It’s no place or occupation for me. Anyway, I’m going, and in that new land I will make a _man_ of myself again.’ He also said he’d make a fortune for both of us, if I’d go with him.” “If he’ll make the man of himself, that’s enough; better than fortune,” quoth Lieutenant Neal, standing near. “And I believe he will. I’d feared his ambition was dead; but it isn’t, and anybody with ambition to be something higher is by no means hopeless. I’m glad he’s gone. The Cherokees and other Indians will miss him, though; he was their best friend.” Ernest missed him, too; missed him already――and rather wanted to go to Texas, himself. However, on the very next day who should come riding into the post but Mr. Carroll the Texan, back from his trip down-river, and eager indeed over the tidings with which he was greeted. “Sam Houston’s gone, they tell me! Gone to Texas! Pshaw! He must have crossed my trail, then, on his way down to Nacogdoches. But it’s good news. Hello, boy,” he cried, sighting Ernest. “I had word of your uncle. He was at Fort Smith, but he left for Texas before I could catch him. I reckon he didn’t know you were up here. If you’d like to follow him now’s your chance, for I’m off to Texas myself in the morning.” “All right,” said Ernest. “I’ll go if I can get a horse.” “A hoss!” laughed Mr. Carroll. “No boy who’s plucky enough to take the long trail into Texas shall lack a hoss. Not much!” “Besides, he’s earned one,” declared the lieutenant, hearing. “He’s worked hard at whatever he was told to do, and my yellow pony that he’s been riding is his to keep; yes, and saddle and bridle, too.” So Ernest, outfitted, by the friends whom he had made, not only with the yellow pony, and saddle and bridle, but also with clothes, provisions, and a buck-handled hunting-knife, found himself the next morning prepared to ride southward with Dick Carroll the Texan. He was shaking hands and exchanging good-byes, when into the midst strode a young Cherokee, the nephew of Tyania, Sam Houston’s wife. He bore a beautiful light little rifle, beaded hide bullet-pouch, and powder-flask of black buffalo horn scraped smooth and thin. Straight he marched to Ernest’s stirrup.