Walker in the meantime had repeated his friendly warnings appertaining to the great danger in going further down the river.

You will remember what he had told us about it before you left us.
You know that I was the biggest coward of the whole seven; but I assumed courage and told Field that I would go down the river alone; and, for a time, I thought I would do so; but after some reflection I concluded that, perhaps, discretion was the better part of valor, and reluctantly gave it up.

We now decided to follow you, or to take some other unknown route and try to make our escape out of this most perilous condition.
We then set about, as you had done, to trade with Walker for a pony or two, and after much dickering Field succeeded in getting the, afterwards famous, big, old, sore-backed mule.

You may not remember him, but I do; and, notwithstanding his sore back, he made pretty good beef.

I, with pins, needles, thread, a pocket-knife, a handkerchief, etc., succeeded in getting a very nice, round, three-year-old, iron-gray pony.
After making pack-saddles, and getting almost ready to start, we were, through Walker's kindness and persuasiveness, overcome, and consented to go with him, feeling confident that we would not starve to death while with him.