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He had half a mile to walk, through the low brush. The first of the wagons beat him to the fort. When he drew near, the lead wagon had halted, and the others were trundling in one after the other. The men were crowding about their three comrades who had been rescued, and for a few moments nobody seemed to notice ragged little red-headed Dave, toiling on as fast as he could.

It was a large train. There were twenty-five wagons, with their teamsters, and about two hundred extra men, some mounted on mules and horses. However, most of the men were afoot. The wagons were tremendous big things, with flaring canvas tops on, or else with the canvas stripped, leaving only the naked hoops of the frame-work. Each wagon was drawn by twelve panting bullocks, yoked in pairs, or spans.

The majority of the men were dressed alike, in flat, broad-brimmed plains hats, blue or red flannel shirts, and rough trousers belted at the waist and tucked into high, heavy boots. The teamsters were armed in hand with their whips, of short stock and long lash and snapper which cracked like a pistol shot. Those cracks could be heard half a mile. The extra men carried mainly large bore muskets, called (as Davy knew) Mississippi yagers; and all had knives and pistols, thrust into waist-band and belt. Whiskered and unshaven and tanned and dusty, it was a regular rough-and-ready crowd.