p get it. Somewhere down in that
world of timber were Major Henry and Kit Carson and little Jed Smith, on
the trail; and General Ashley and wise Fitzpatrick the Bad Hand,
planning to escape; and the man who had the message. And here was I, on
detail that seemed to have happened, and yet seemed to have been
ordered, too. And watchful and steady as the stars, above us was the
Great Commander, who knew just how things would come out, here in the
hills the same as in the cities. It's kind of comforting, when a fellow
realizes that he can't get lost entirely, and that Somebody knows where
he is and what he is doing, and what he wants to do.

In the morning I would strike off southwest, and keep going until I came
to a trail where the beaver man had traveled, or until I had some sight
of him or news of him.

By the Pointers it was midnight. So after thinking things over I fed the
fire and warmed my back; then I hunched into the angle and with the two
flags about my shoulders and over my head I started to snooze off. Some
animal kept rustling and pattering, but I let it rustle and patter.

Just as I was snoozing, I remembered that to-morrow--that _to-day_ was
Sunday! Yes; I counted, and we had left town on Monday and we had been
out six days. I supposed that I ought to rest on Sunday; but I didn't
see how I could, fixed as I was; and I hoped that if I took the trail I
would be understood. (Note 43.)

CHAPTER X

THE RED FOX PATROL

When I woke up I was safe and sound, but I had thrown off the flags and
I was stiff and cold. Now I could see all about me--see the rocks and
the grass and the ashes of the fire; so morning had come. That was good.

After I had yawned and stretched and straightened out, I gave a little
dance to start my circulation. Then I built the fire from the coals that
were left, and cooked the rest of the grouse, and had breakfast, chewing
well so as to get all the nourishment that I could. I climbed on a rock,
in the sun, like a ground-hog, to eat, and to look about at the same
time. And I saw smoke!

The smoke was lifting above the timber away off, below. This was a fine
morning; a Sunday morning, peaceful and calm, and the smoke rose in a
little curl, as if it were from a camp or a chimney. I took that as a
good omen. Down I sprang, to my own fire; and heaped on damp stuff and
dirt, and using my coat made the private smoke signal of the Elk Patrol:
one puff, three puffs, and one puff. (Note