And he would wait with eyes set on the stars for its revelation. He
crouched at last against the trunk of a tree in a little ravine near
the camp. It was past three o'clock. William Walker, who was acting his
second in command, was still waiting his orders for the following day.
He saw Brown enter the ravine at one o'clock. Impatient of his endless
wandering, tired and sleepy, he decided to follow his Chief and ask his
orders.

He found him in a sitting posture, leaning against a blackjack, his
rifle across his knees. Walker called softly and received no response.
He approached and laid his hand on his shoulder.

Instantly he leaped to his feet, his rifle at his follower's breast, his
finger on the trigger.

"My God!" Walker yelled.

His speech was too late to stop the pressure of the finger. Walker
pushed the muzzle up and the ball grazed his shoulder. The leader
gripped his follower's arm, stared at him a moment and merely grunted:

"Oh!"

When the day dawned a new man was found to act as second in command.
Walker had deserted his queer chieftain.

The old man entered the camp at dawn, the light of determination in his
eyes and a new set to his jaw. His first plan of the Pottawattomie was
right. The turn toward Lawrence had been a waste of time. He selected
six men to accompany him on his mission, his four sons who had made
up the Surveyor's party, his son-in-law, Henry Thompson, and Theodore
Weiner. Owen, Salmon, Oliver and Frederick Brown knew every foot of the
ground. They had carried the chain, set the markers and flags and kept
the records.

He called his men in line and issued his first command:

"To the house of James Townsley."

Townsley belonged to the Pottawattomie Rifles of which organization his
son, John Jr., was the Captain.

Arrived at the house, Brown drew Townsley aside and spoke in a vague,
impersonal manner.

"I hear there is trouble expected on the Pottawattomie."

"Is there?"

"We hear it."

"What are you going to do?"

"March to their rescue. Will you help us?"

"How?"

"Harness your team of grays and take our party to Pottawattomie."

"All right."

The old man found a grindstone and ordered the ugly cutlasses which
he had brought from Ohio to be sharpened. He stood over the stone and
watched it turned until each edge was as keen as a butcher's blade.

It began to dawn on the two younger sons before the grinding of the
swords was finished what their father had deter