Jackson calmly tucked the paper into the fire bag that hung at his belt.

“Come an’ take it, Sam, damn ye!” said he.  “I don’t know what’s in hit, an’ won’t know.  Who it’s to ain’t none o’ yore damn business!”

“You’re a cursed meddler!” broke out Woodhull.  “You’re a spy in our camp, that’s all you are!”

“So!  Well, cussed meddler er not, I’m a cussed shore shot.  An’ I advise ye to give over on all this an’ mind yore business.  Ye’ll have plenty to do by midnight, an’ by that time all yore womern an’ children, all yore old men an’ all yore cowards’ll be prayin’ fer Banion an’ his men to come.  That there includes you somewhere’s, Sam.  Don’t temp’ me too much ner too long.  I’ll kill ye yit ef ye do!  Git on away!”

They parted, each with eye over shoulder.  Their talk had been aside and none had heard it in full.  But when Woodhull again joined Mrs. Wingate that lady conveyed to him Molly’s refusal to see him or to set a time for seeing him.  Bitterly angered, humiliated to the core, he turned back to the men who were completing the defenses of the wagon park.

“I kain’t start now afore dark,” said Jackson to the train command.  “They’re a-goin’ to jump the train.  When they do come they’ll surround ye an’ try to keep ye back from the water till the stock goes crazy.  Lay low an’ don’t let a Injun inside.  Hit may be a hull day, er more, but when Banion’s men come they’ll come a-runnin’—­allowin’ I git through to tell ’em.

“Dig in a trench all the way aroun’,” he added finally.  “Put the womern an’ children in hit an’ pile up all yer flour on top.  Don’t waste no powder—­let ’em come up clost as they will.  Hold on ontel we come.”

At dusk he slipped away, the splash of his horse’s feet in the ford coming fainter and fainter, even as the hearts of some felt fainter as his wise and sturdy counsel left them.  Naught to do now but to wait.

They did wait—­the women and children, the old, the ill and the wounded huddled shivering and crying in the scooped-out sand, hardest and coldest of beds; the men in line against the barricade, a circle of guards outside the wagon park.  But midnight passed, and the cold hours of dawn, and still no sign came of an attack.  Men began to believe the dust cloud of yesterday no more than a false alarm, and the leaders were of two minds, whether to take Jackson’s counsel and wait for the Missourians, or to hook up and push on as fast as possible to Bridger’s fort, scarce more than two hard days’ journey on ahead.  But before this breakfast-hour discussion had gone far events took the decision out of their hands.

“Look!” cried a voice.  “Open the gate!”

The cattle guards and outposts who had just driven the herd to water were now spurring for shelter and hurrying on the loose stock ahead of them.  And now, from the willow growth above them, from the trail that led to the ford and from the more open country to the westward there came, in three great detachments, not a band or a body, but an army of the savage tribesmen, converging steadily upon the wagon train.