we had not anticipated.

The question now was, what were we to do? Some proposed that we should
move our camp across the branch and pitch our tent among our Indian
allies; for it was argued with much force that if our spies had been
discovered, the Sioux would follow their trail, and as it passed directly
by our tents, we should fall the first victims; that if the Sioux,
notwithstanding their superiority in numbers, should not think it prudent
to attack the main camp, they would not fail to attack, according to their
custom, the out-camps, take what scalps they could, and retreat. But there
was a strong objection to moving our camp: the Indians frequently during
the march had desired us to pitch our tents among them, but we had always
declined, preferring to be by ourselves. What would they say if we should
now break up our encampment and go among them? 'White men are cowards!
They rejected our request when all was safe, but now at the approach of
danger they come skulking among us like dogs for protection.' No; we
could not do this; pride forbade it. We next discussed the expediency of
dividing ourselves into a watch, and keeping guard by turns through the
night. The more experienced of the party, and particularly Jamison, an old
hunter and Indian fighter, said that this would only exhaust us, and would
be of no avail; that our Indian allies had spies around the encampment in
every direction; that if they failed to perceive the approach of the enemy,
we could not discover them; that the first intimation our sentinels would
have would be an arrow through the body; that our best plan would be to
extinguish our fires, prepare our arms, lie down with them in our hands,
rely on the Indian spies for notice of the enemy's approach, and on the
first alarm make our way to the Indian camp, being careful as we approached
it to give the pass-word for the night, '_Wal-las-ki-push-eto_.' We all
finally came to this conclusion.

During the discussion, two of the party had not spoken a word; one was our
tent-mate 'Doings,' who was so completely paralyzed with fright as to be
unable to think or speak; the other was old 'Leatherstocking,' who
listened with the utmost coolness to all that was said, occasionally
expressing assent or dissent by a nod or shake of the head. I now observed
him quietly examine his rifle, draw the charge and reload; take out the
flint and replace it with a new one; he then threw himself down for the
night, his