"I don't like him. I'm going to kill him anyway," growled Francois.
"Keep still!" snarled Deschamps. To Bridger:
"I'm waiting to know when the packs will come through and how. Tell me and you won't be hurt."
"They're to come by pack mules. How do I know when a string of mules will git into Fort Union, you fool? Phinny may hold them up for all I know. Perhaps he has them now."
Deschamps gnawed his lips and eyed Bridger evilly. Jack Rem spoke up and declared:
"Your white medicine is strong, you say. It better tell you where the packs are. My woman was at the fort when you asked about a keelboat. You want it for the packs."
Deschamps stamped his feet and cried:
"Good for you, Jack Rem. Your woman shall have much red cloth. She has sharp ears.
"So you'd fool the old fox, would you, Bridger? Keep him covered, boys. I'll give him until I fill my pipe to tell when the packs will come down the Yellowstone."
Bridger bowed his head and pondered deeply. There were nine of them, all armed and not a bit averse to murder. His and Lander's rifles stood
