“We’re in between the Sioux and the Pawnees now,” he went on.  “They’re huntin’ the bufflers not ten mile ahead.  But when I tell these pilgrims, they laugh at me.  The hull Sioux nation is on the spring hunt right now.  I’ll not have it said Jim Bridger led a wagon train into a massacree.  If ye’ll let me, I’m for leavin’ ’em an’ trainin’ with you-all, especial since you got anyhow one good man along.  I’ve knowed Bill Jackson many a year at the Rendyvous afore the fur trade petered.  Damn the pilgrims!  The hull world’s broke loose this spring.  There’s five thousand Mormons on ahead, praisin’ God every jump an’ eatin’ the grass below the roots.  Womern an’ children—­so many of ’em, so many!  I kain’t talk about hit!  Women don’t belong out here!  An’ now here you come bringin’ a thousand more!

“There’s a woman an’ a baby layin’ dead in oar camp now,” he concluded.  “Died last night.  The pilgrims is tryin’ to make coffins fer ’em out’n cottonwood logs.”

“Lucky for all!” Jackson interrupted the garrulity of the other.  “We buried men in blankets on the Vermilion a few days back.  The Pawnees got a small camp o’ our own folks.”

“Yes, I know all about that.”

“What’s that?” cut in Banion.  “How do you know?”

“Well, we’ve got the survivors—­three o’ them, countin’ Woodhull, their captain.”

“How did they get here?”

“They came in with a small outfit o’ Mormons that was north o’ the Vermilion.  They’d come out on the St. Jo road.  They told me—­”

“Is Woodhull here—­can you find him?”

“Shore!  Ye want to see him?”

“Yes.”

“He told me all about hit—­”

“We know all about it, perhaps better than you do—­after he’s told you all about it.”

Bridger looked at him, curious.

“Well, anyhow, hit’s over,” said he.  “One of the men had a Pawnee arrer in his laig.  Reckon hit hurt.  I know, fer I carried a Blackfoot arrerhead under my shoulder blade fer sever’l years.

“But come on down and help me make these pilgrims set guards.  Do-ee mind, now, the hull Sioux nation’s just in ahead o’ us, other side the river!  Yet these people didn’t want to ford to the south side the Platte; they wanted to stick north o’ the river.  Ef we had, we’d have our ha’r dryin’ by now.  I tell ye, the tribes is out to stop the wagon trains this spring.  They say too many womern and children is comin’, an’ that shows we want to take their land away fer keeps.

“From now on to Oregon—­look out!  The Cayuses cleaned out the Whitman mission last spring in Oregon.  Even the Shoshones is dancin’.  The Crows is out, the Cheyennes is marchin’, the Bannocks is east o’ the Pass, an’ ye kain’t tell when ter expeck the Blackfoots an’ Grow Vaws.  Never was gladder to see a man than I am to see Bill Jackson.”

“Stretch out!”

Banion gave the order.  The Missouri wagons came on, filed through the gap in order and with military exactness wheeled into a perfect park at one side the main caravan.