At the right of their camp went the long line of the Indians’ fires.  From far down this line came a low ringing chant and the strangely insistent drum-beats.

“They’re mourning old Chief Moqueetus,” explained Lee.  “He fell asleep before the fire just about dark, while his corn and potatoes were cooking, and he had a bad nightmare.  The old fellow woke up screaming that he had his double-hands full of blood, and he grabbed his gun and was up on top of the hill firing down before he was really awake, I guess.  Anyway, one of the cusses got him—­like as not the same one that did this to-day while I was peeking at them,” and he showed them a bullet-hole in his hat.

At fires near by the Indians were broiling beef cut from animals they had slaughtered belonging to the wagon-train.  Still others were cutting the hides into strips to be made into lariats.  As far down as the line could be seen, there were dusky figures darting in and out of the firelight.

A council was at once called of the Presidents, Bishops, Elders, High Priests, and the officers of the militia who were present.  Bishop Klingensmith bared his massive head in the firelight and opened the council with prayer, invoking the aid of God to guide them aright.  Then Major Higbee, presiding as chairman, announced the orders under which they were assembled and under which the train had been attacked.

“It is ordered from headquarters that this party must be used up, except such as are too young to tell tales.  We got to do it.  They been acting terrible mean ever since we wouldn’t sell them anything.  If we let them go on now, they been making their brag that they’ll raise a force in California and come back and wipe us out—­and Johnston’s army already marching on us from the east.  Are we going to submit again to what we got in Missouri and in Illinois?  No!  Everybody is agreed about that.  Now the Indians have failed to do it like we thought they would, so we got to finish it up, that’s all.”

Joel Rae spoke for the first time.

“You say except such as are too young to tell tales, Brother Higbee; what does that mean?”

“Why, all but the very smallest children, of course.”

“Are there children here?”

Lee answered: 

“Oh, a fair sprinkling—­about what you’d look for in a train of a hundred and thirty people.  The boys got two of the kids yesterday; the fools had dressed them up in white dresses and sent them out with a bucket for water.  You can see their bodies lying over there this side of the spring.”

“And there are women?” he asked, feeling a great sickness come upon him.

“Plenty of them,” answered Klingensmith, “some mighty fine women, too; I could see one yesterday, a monstrous fine figure and hair shiny like a crow’s wing, and a little one, powerful pretty, and one kind of between the two—­it’s a shame we can’t keep some of them, but orders is orders!”