Now to my view all appeared peaceful enough—­the silent, deserted shores, the desolate sweep of the broad river, the green-crowned bluffs, the quiet log fort behind me, its stockaded gates wide open, with not even a sentry visible, a flag flapping idly at the summit of a high pole, and down below where I sat a little river steamboat tied to the wharf, a dingy stern-wheeler, with the word “Warrior” painted across the pilot house.  My eyes and thoughts turned that way wonderingly.  The boat had tied up the previous evening, having just descended from Prairie du Chien, and, it was rumored at that time, intended to depart down river for St. Louis at daybreak.  Yet even now I could perceive no sign of departure.  There was but the thinnest suggestion of smoke from the single stack, no loading, or unloading, and the few members of the crew visible were idling on the wharf, or grouped upon the forward deck, a nondescript bunch of river boatmen, with an occasional black face among them, their voices reaching me, every sentence punctuated by oaths.  Above, either seated on deck stools, or moving restlessly about, peering over the low rail at the shore, were a few passengers, all men roughly dressed—­miners from Fevre River likely, with here and there perchance an adventurer from farther above—­impatient of delay.  I was attracted to but two of any interest.  These were standing alone together near the stern, a heavily-built man with white hair and beard, and a younger, rather slender fellow, with clipped, black moustache.  Both were unusually well dressed, the latter exceedingly natty and fashionable in attire, rather overly so I thought, while the former wore a long coat, and high white stock.  Involuntarily I had placed them in my mind as river gamblers, but was still observing their movements with some curiosity, when Captain Thockmorton crossed the gangplank and began ascending the steep bluff.  The path to be followed led directly past where I was sitting, and, recognizing me, he stopped to exchange greetings.

“What! have you finished your day’s work already, Lieutenant?” he exclaimed pleasantly.  “Mine has only just begun.”

“So I observe.  It was garrison talk last night that the Warrior was to depart at daylight.”

“That was the plan.  However, the Wanderer went north during the night,” he explained, “and brought mail from below, so we are being held for the return letters.  I am going up to the office now.”

My eyes returned to the scene below.

“You have some passengers aboard.”

“A few; picked up several at the lead mines, besides those aboard from Prairie du Chien.  No soldiers this trip, though.  They haven’t men enough at Fort Crawford to patrol the walls.”

“So I’m told; and only the merest handful here.  Frankly, Captain, I do not know what they can be thinking about down below, with this Indian uprising threatened.  The situation is more serious than they imagine.  In my judgment Black Hawk means to fight.”