SILBERBRUCKE was a handsome town, a little bigger than Schopfheim. The narrow river that gave it its name neatly bisected the place, with three handsome stone bridges crossing it. They camped beside the river and set up the show in the river meadow on the opposite side of town from where they had entered. Kellermann had ridden ahead and plastered the place with handbills, and by the time the cavalcade had reached it, there were people lined up on both sides of the road to see them enter.

Anticipating this, Cody had ordered that they all don show costumes that day, so Giselle was in her fringed leather leggings, skirt and shirt, with a red neckerchief and a broad-brimmed leather hat. Someone else was driving her wagon, which had been pulled to the campsite ahead by two of the Quadrille horses, while she rode Lebkuchen. Her mare was sporting that odd American saddle with rifle sheathes at either knee, complete with rifles.

Cody had assembled them in a particular riding order as well. He led, of course, but per the plan to make the Indians as prominent as any of the white men, directly after him came Leading Fox and Giselle riding side by side, followed by the rest of the Pawnee. An abbreviated version of the band marched behind them, playing a song she now knew to be “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” It certainly was lively, and the people of the Schwarzwald loved brass bands. As they passed between the lines of eager spectators, horses seemingly nodding their heads in time to the music, the townsfolk cheered and clapped along.

Fox stared stoically ahead, which matched what the readers of Karl May expected out of an Indian, but Giselle smiled and nodded and waved to either side of her, all the way to their camping grounds. The advance crew had already performed the duty of setting up the canvas “wall” around what would be the show grounds, keeping those who had not paid out. The show parade trooped in through the entrance, passed by the ticket booth, and made their way around the right side of the show tent to where the camps had been set up.

This meadow was not as big as the one at Schopfheim, so the canvas wall had been set up to enclose some of the trees. Giselle found her wagon set up and waiting underneath a fine old oak, with a little chair and table set out at the base of it. By this, she gathered that she was now to be part of the “tour of the camps,” and would be expected to be sitting there, willing to make conversation and doing something appropriate to her role.

Well, I can certainly clean my guns.