Ma's only real trouble came when she had already reached the other bank--

the right rear wheel seemed to drop into a hole between two rocks, just at the edge of the stream. We all ended up having to wade in and lift and push--it was as if that wheel had taken root in its hole. We had to hitch up the other two mules before that wheel popped free.

"It's a lucky thing those nice Indians came along," Ma said to Uncle Seth. "Otherwise, you and me would still be arguing."

"No, otherwise you would have drowned yourself, the baby, and most of the mules," he said.

10 I THOUGHT forts were for soldiers--all I see is Indians," Ma said, when we were a hundred yards or so from the gates of Fort Laramie.

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"The soldiers are inside, drunk," Uncle Seth said. "The Indians are outside, drunk. It might be different in Missouri, but that's how forts work in Wyoming."

Once we finally got out of the creek and were trying to get dry, it started to snow. By the time we got on dry clothes and started on for the fort it was nearly dusk. Several bunches of Indians were camped outside the fort, on the plain in front of it. The smoke from many campfires rose as the snow fell, so that the lower sky all seemed to melt together, smoke and snow and dusk, making it hard to get a clear look at anything.

Indian dogs were everywhere, nipping and snarling at one another. Two or three of the campfires belonged to trappers, with hide wagons sitting beside them--a few of the trappers were as hairy as Father Villy. Some nodded over their campfires--a few threw dice on a deerskin.

I had never expected to see such a wild sight in my life--neither had Neva, or G.T. I kept a good hold on my mule--I didn't want the nipping dogs to spook him. When we were nearly to the gates we passed the very Arapahos who had led us across the stream--most of them already had their lodges up. We even saw the very mongrel who had tried to bite Nicky--he was quarreling with another dog over a scrap of hide. The woman who pulled him off Nicky and then led us across had just whacked a fat puppy in the head and was getting it ready for the pot.

"Hey!" Neva said, outraged at the thought that someone would eat a pup.

She had tried to rear several puppies, only to lose them to the coyotes-there were so many varmints around Boone's Lick that pets didn't have much of a chance. We all knew that Indians ate dogs, but this was the first chance we had to witness how short life could be for a puppy in an Indian camp.

"Have you eaten puppies?" Neva asked Father Villy--she had come to regard him as her special friend.

"Yes, miss--they're tender," the priest said.

Before Neva could question him further we passed through the big gates into the broad quadrangle of the fort; suddenly we were inside some place, for the first time in weeks. It was a large plenty of animals, but we had had nothing but the broad plains around us for weeks on end. Being inside the fort felt a little close.

A burly soldier carrying a carbine came walking over to challenge us--he wobbled a little, when he walked. Ma pulled up and waited.

"Hello, Ned--have you come to arrest us?" Uncle Seth asked.

Hearing his name called out seemed to startle the big soldier. Then he noticed Ma on the wagon seat--it was snowing heavily enough that he had missed that detail--and he quickly stopped and took his cap off. He opened his mouth to speak but only came out with a big rumbling belch.

"Seth, is that you? It's dim light," the soldier said. He had a glassy-eyed look. When he tipped his cap to Ma he lost control of it--the cap floated down into the mud, which seemed to embarrass the man greatly.

"Pardon me, ma'am," he said. "I believe I've gone and et too much."

93

When he reached down to pick up his cap he fell flat on his face in the mud--he didn't move. Ma had to turn the mules just to get around him.

"Dead drunk, I fear," Father Villy said. "It's a frequent failing of our soldiers in these lonely outposts."

"Lonely--I wouldn't say it's lonely," Ma remarked. "There's more people camped around here than live in Boone's Lick, Missouri, I'd say."

She was right about that. As many folks were camped inside the fort as outside--soldiers, trappers, a few people with wagons, Indian women, dogs. Some sturdy cabins lined two sides of the big stockade, but most of the people seemed to be living outdoors.

"Who runs this fort, Seth?" Ma asked. "I want to find him quick and inquire about my husband." "General Slade runs it--Sam Slade," Uncle Seth said. "At least, he did the last time I was here--I suppose he might have been replaced. But I don't know that we can just barge in and get an audience with General Slade, if he's here--we don't need to anyway," he said. "Any of these fellows who's sober enough to stand up will know if Dick's around."

"Then find someone sober and ask them," Ma said. "And if there's a room empty anywhere, ask them if we can use it for the night. I'm tired of sleeping with snow in my hair."

"Why, here's Johnny Molesworth--I expect he can help us," Father Villy said. "I see he's been made a captain."

A slim soldier stepped out of the gloom of smoke and snow and evening light and grabbed Father Villy by the hand.

"Villy, what a pleasure," he said. "I see your beard's matured."

Then the young captain noticed Ma and Neva, took off his cap, and made them a little bow.

"Hello, ladies--welcome to our muddy old fort," he said. "I'm surprised you got across Laramie Fork--we've had a regular stream of people who nearly drowned out."

"Some Indians helped us," Ma said. "I'm Mary Margaret Cecil--I guess you know Seth."

"He should know me, he put me in jail the last time we met," Uncle Seth said, in a chilly tone.

Captain Molesworth ignored the chilly tone and grabbed Uncle Seth's hand.

"Now, Seth, it was just for your own protection," the captain said. "I was afraid one of those thieving Canadian skunks might shoot you."

"Forgiven. Where's Dick?" Uncle Seth asked.

"Mary Margaret is his wife and she's come a far piece to talk to him. We expected to find him here."

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Captain Molesworth seemed a little startled by that information--he looked at Ma in surprise.

"No, Dick's not here," he said. "He's wood hauling up at Fort Phil Kearny--it's one of our fine new forts, just finished," he said. "Dick went up with Colonel Carrington--they're predicting a hard winter and Colonel Carrington was eager to lay in lots of wood."

"Drat the man--how far is that?" Ma asked. "Oh, it isn't far--the distance wouldn't be the problem," the captain said.

Ma just looked at him and waited. "The Sioux would be the problem," he went on. "They're testy with us over these forts."

"That's right," Father Villy said. "We ran into Red Cloud and he told us as much himself."

"The Cheyenne are fractious too--it's a dilemma," the young soldier said.

"For you, maybe--not for me," Ma said. "I didn't build the forts. Is there a room we can bunk in for the night? I expect we'll press on tomorrow." "We do have a cabin, recently vacated," the captain said. "Let me get someone to see to your livestock. We're lucky to have plenty of good fodder."

"Now listen, Mary Margaret," Uncle Seth began, as soon as Captain Molesworth walked off to find someone to tend our stock.