s fer th' Blackfoot country. They only
follered him thar onct. What all did ye give 'em, Hank?"

"Oh, lots o' little things," chuckled Hank, reminiscently. "Th' medicine
men o' th' Blackfeet air th' greatest in th' world; thar ain't no
others kin come within a mile o' 'em, thanks ter me an' a chemist I know
back in St. Louie. Th' other traders allus git what I leave."

When the important Indian visitors left there was quite a little
ceremony, and the camp was quiet until after the noon meal. Early in the
afternoon, according to the agreement with the chief and the medicine
man, the Indians visited the encampment in squads, and at no time was
there more than thirty or forty savages in the encampment at once.
Instead of the usual attempted stampede of the animals at night all was
peaceful; and instead of having to remain for two or three days in camp,
at all times in danger of a change in the mood of the savages, the
caravan was permitted to leave on the following morning, which miracle
threw Woodson into more or less of a daze. As the last wagon rounded a
hillock several miles from the camp site a mounted Comanche rode out of
the brush and went along the column until he espied Franklin; and a few
moments later he rode into the brush again, a bulging red cloth bundle
stowed under his highly ornamented robe.

But there was more than the desire to trade, the professed friendship
and the bribery of the medicine man that operated for peace in the minds
of the Comanches. Never so early in the history of the trail had they
attacked any caravan as large as this one and got the best of the fight.
In all the early years of the trail the white men killed in such
encounters under such conditions, could be counted on the fingers of one
hand; while the Indian losses had been considerable. With all their
vaunted courage the Comanches early had learned the difference between
Americans and Mexicans, and most of their attempts against large
caravans had been more for the purpose of stampeding the animals than
for fighting, and their efforts mostly had been "full of sound and
fury," like Macbeth's idiot's tale, and signified nothing. Still, the
caravan breathed easier as mile after mile took it away from that
encampment; but their escape was not regarded so seriously as to make
them pass Middle Spring, where good water always could be found, and
here they corralled.

Tom and his friends had grown more alert since leaving the Arkansas, a