As we realized the truly formidable appearance of the caravan, Hal, with
his usual impetuosity, declared that there wern't Indians enough in the
country to whip us; for confirmation of his opinion, appealing to old
Jerry, who, however, only shrugged his shoulders after the peculiar
manner of frontiersmen, and said, "_Quien sabe?_" or, who knows?

For five long days we followed the road, without meeting with any
incident worthy of note. The settlements had all been passed, Fort Clark
left far behind, and not an Indian been seen by any of our party.

On the evening of the eighth day, we encamped upon the banks of the
Nucces. It was a beautiful night. The young moon was fast sinking behind
the line of the distant mountains, leaving us to enjoy the light of our
camp-fire, and admire its ruddy glow, reflected on the snow-white covers
of our wagons. These were parked in a semi-circle around us, and forcibly
recalled to my mind the stories I had read in my boyhood, of gipsy
encampments upon some grand old English barren.

"Now I call this comfort," said Hal, as he lazily stretched himself upon
a blanket before the fire. "Eight days on the road, and we haven't seen
an Indian. I don't believe there are any. Now what's the use of standing
guard and shivering round the camp half the night, watching for Indians
that never come?"

"I come on first to-night, and shall stand my watch, at any rate," said
Ned. "And before it gets any darker, we'd better drive the mules down to
water."

"Do you think," asked Hal, appealing to me, "that there's any need of