ems to be Mr. Boyd's
expedition; perhaps he may invite you."

Tom shook his head sadly. "Reckon I'll have all I kin do to look arter
Miss Cooper in case we meets airy Injuns, without botherin' with six
_flashes_. See you-all later, mebby."

They drew rein and waited for the crawling column to pass them, smiling
and nodding in reply to the cheerful salutations of the wagoners and
traders. Pedro, the slender Mexican, who took such a deep interest in
the doings of Tom Boyd, removed his wide hat and bowed, in true cavalier
fashion, showing his gleaming teeth in a pearly smile. The interest the
plainsman was showing in his pretty companion was an assurance that Tom
Boyd would need no further persuasion to enter the Mexican settlements.
Franklin, the leader of the third division, temporarily the second
section of Tom's column, allowed himself the luxury of a sullen smile.
He knew his part in the scheme of Pedro and Schoolcraft perfectly and
had no thought of deviating from it, but he could not help admiring the
upstanding plainsman, who was a man after his own heart. They were bound
together by a common interest, the safety of the caravan, and until they
were met by the escort of Mexican cavalry, somewhere near Rock Creek or
the Canadian River, Franklin gave little heed to personal grudges. All
he was supposed to do was to see that the plainsman did not leave the
caravan for good before the escort met it.

The two four-pounders trundled along their rumbling way, only one man to
each gun, the rest of their crews off with the advance guard. Tom
glanced at the all but deserted weapons and frowned. Franklin, noticing
it, frowned in reply. It was not because full cannon crews were needed
on this part of the trail, but because both men knew that it would be
the same all the way.

After the last wagon had passed, Tom and his companion rode forth and
turned when half a mile from the column, riding ahead on a course
parallel with it. The prairie was studded with the earlier flowers of
spring, in some places a rich carpet of delicate colors. Suddenly Tom
pointed to a gray object nearly covered with earth, dried grass of the
year before, and the fresh greenery of this season's slender blades
pushing up through it.

"Buffalo skull," he explained. "Let's look at it; it may tell us
something interesting."

They rode close to it and the plainsman nodded in quick understanding.

"That bull was killed by an Indian," he said. "Notice t