the cart, he told the following
story:

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how late it was. By the
time he approached the wagoners it was perfectly dark; and as he saw
them all sitting around their fires within the circle of wagons, their
guns laid by their sides, he thought he might as well give warning of
his approach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. Raising his
voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in prolonged accents, "Camp,
ahoy!" This eccentric salutation produced anything but the desired
result. Hearing such hideous sounds proceeding from the outer darkness,
the wagoners thought that the whole Pawnee nation were about to break
in and take their scalps. Up they sprang staring with terror. Each man
snatched his gun; some stood behind the wagons; some threw themselves
flat on the ground, and in an instant twenty cocked muskets were leveled
full at the horrified Tete Rouge, who just then began to be visible
through the darkness.

"Thar they come," cried the master wagoner, "fire, fire! shoot that
feller."

"No, no!" screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of fright; "don't fire,
don't! I'm a friend, I'm an American citizen!"

"You're a friend, be you?" cried a gruff voice from the wagons; "then
what are you yelling out thar for, like a wild Injun. Come along up here
if you're a man."

"Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the master wagoner, "maybe he's a
decoy, like."

Tete Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, with the gaping
muzzles of the muskets still before his eyes. He succeeded at last in
explaining his character and situation, and the Missourians admitted him
into camp. He got no whisky; but as he represented himself as a
great invalid, and suffering much from coarse fare, they made up a
contribution for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from their own rations.

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more related this story.
We hardly knew how much of it to believe, though after some
cross-questioning we failed to discover any flaw in the narrative.
Passing by the wagoner's camp, they confirmed Tete Rouge's account in
every particular.

"I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," said one of them, "for
the biggest heap of money in Missouri."

To Tete Rouge's great wrath they expressed a firm conviction that he
was crazy. We left them after giving them the advice not to trouble
themselves about war-whoops in future, since they would be apt to feel
an In