Paul strolled farther, and saw a dark figure among the trees. As he
approached he recognized Shif'less Sol.

"Any news, Sol?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the shiftless one, "we've crossed trails of bands three
times, but the main force ain't come up yet. I guess it means to wait a
little, Paul. I'm awful glad we've come to help out these poor women an'
children."

"So am I," said Paul, glancing at the black forest. "They've got to go
through a terrible thing, Sol."

"Yes, an' it's comin' fast," said the shiftless one.

But nothing happened that night, at least so far as the camp was
concerned. The sentinels walked up and down outside, and were not
disturbed. The women and children slept peacefully in the wagons, or in
their blankets before the fires, and the clear dawn came, silver at first
and then gold under a sky of blue.

The "eyes" of the train had come in as before, and taken their nap, and
now were up and watching once more. Breakfast over, the drivers swung
their whips, called cheerfully to their horses, and the wagons, again in
three close files, resumed the march.

"We'll strike the ford about noon to-day," said Dick Salter to Daniel Poe.

"I wish we were safely on the other side," said Daniel Poe, in the exact
words of the day before.

"So do I," repeated Dick Salter.

The wagons moved forward undisturbed, their wheels rolling easily over the
soft turf, and some of the women, forgetting their alarms, softly sang
songs of their old homes in the East. The children, eager to see
everything in this mighty, unknown land, called to each other; but all the
time, as they marched through the pleasant greenwood, danger was coming
closer and closer.

CHAPTER XX

THE TERRIBLE FORD

"The ford ain't much more than an hour's march farther on," said Dick
Salter to Daniel Poe, "an' the way to it leads over purty smooth groun'."

"And we have not seen anything of the warriors yet, except the trails of
small bands," said Daniel Poe hopefully. "It may be that our new friends
are mistaken."

Dick Salter shook his head.

"Tom Ross never makes a mistake in matters uv that kind," he said, "an'
that boy, Henry Ware, couldn't ef he tried. He's wonderful, Mr. Poe."

"Yes," said Daniel Poe. "Nobody else ever made such an impression upon me.
And the one they call Paul is a fine fellow, too. I wish I had a son like
that."

"He's the most popular fellow in the train already," said Dick Salter.

Both looked ad