The Pawnees has showed us." "Yes," said the deep voice of Caleb Price, property owner and head of a family; "they've showed us that Sam Woodhull was not fit to trust.
There's one man that is." "Do you want him along with your wagons ?" demanded Jackson.

He turned to Wingate.
"Well," said the train captain after a time, "we are striking the Indian country now." "Shall I bring up our wagons an' jine ye all here at the ford this evenin' ?" "I can't keep you from coming on up the road if you want to.

I'll not ask you." "All right! We'll not park with ye then.

But we'll be on the same water.
Hit's my own fault we split.

We wouldn't take orders from Sam Woodhull, an' we never will." He nodded to the blackened ruins, to the grim dead hand pointing to the sky, left where it was by the superstitious blood avengers.
Wingate turned away and led the wagon train a half mile up the stream, pitching camp above the ford where the massacre had occurred.