concealed under a rank spread of willow boughs. For a considerable distance the course of the river could be traced due south, and nowhere along its lonely reaches w^as there any sign of the bull-boats. Lander grew worried. Bridger was grave but lost none of his composure. He dozed, stood watch, and ate dried meat and never betrayed any impatience. Yet when in the early afternoon he detected a moving dot far up the river his gray eyes flashed and he put up his pipe.
"Some Indians from the Crow village coming to visit Fort Union," suggested Lander in a low whisper, as if the newcomer were well within hearing.
"White man," muttered Bridger. "Tell by the way he paddles. Not very good at the paddle, but must have been some time. Probably he's old an' has been away from it."
"Papa Clair?" exclaimed Lander, unable to make out anything except a tiny shape moving toward them with the current.
Bridger made no reply for half a minute, then slowly informed the other:
"Yes, It's Clair. He's taking it easy, thank the lord! Packs must be safe, or he wouldn't be so perky an' yet so delib'rate."
