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Fort Leavenworth was located on the high land, overlooking the Missouri River, two miles above Leavenworth City. It was an important, solid fort, with stone buildings grouped about a large parade ground, and the flag floating in the breeze. Soldiers of the infantry, cavalry, and dragoons were moving hither-thither, drilling or attending to other duties, and on the outskirts of the post were parked a great number of freight wagons, attended by their teamsters.

As he and Davy rode through the wagons, on either side of the trail, Billy called out to one of the men.

“Hello, Buck.”

“Hello, Billy.”

“Is Mr. Russell around here?”

“Yes. He’s over at the quartermaster’s office.”

“When do you pull out, Buck?”

“Thursday the tenth, Billy.”

“All right. I’ll be on hand.”

“That’s Buck Bomer,” explained Billy, as he and Davy rode on. “He’s the wagon boss I’m going out with. Now we’ll find Mr. Russell.”

They had no difficulty in passing the guard stationed beside the road where it entered the edge of the post. Billy seemed to be a familiar figure here. He led the way to a large building that looked like a warehouse, where several freight wagons were standing and where soldiers and civilians were trudging about, as if loading freight.