The traders made considerable use of their own merchandise in premature celebration of the profit they were to realize. One finished off a bottle and tossed it into the fire. Almost immediately the bottle exploded with a flash of bright flame.

“You damned fool,” Adcock yelled, “you could’ve put somebody’s eye out.”

The answer was a rough curse. The two men fell into a violent quarrel until Jake put a stop to it. “No more throwin’ bottles into the fire, and no more of this damned fightin’. Else I’ll knock somebody in the head.”

The two fell back, mumbling dire but empty threats until they descended into a blind stupor.

The other traders were not so besotted that they forgot their plan. They made their beds in a protective rough circle around Andy and Billy. Andy was sure this was not to guard them from outside danger but to prevent them from escaping. Any desire for sleep fell away as he contemplated the dark prospect of falling into the hostile hands of Fights with Bears.

He had purposely avoided encountering Indians, but a false sense of security had brought him willingly into the camp of white men treacherous enough to sell out him and Billy for a price. He dwelt bitterly on the irony of his bad judgment.

He waited until the sounds of even breathing indicated that the men were asleep. He raised up slowly, intending to make his way to the picket line. He would retrieve his and Billy’s horses, then come back for Billy.

Jake spoke roughly, “Better do it in your britches, boy. Out in the dark, somebody’s apt to blow a hole in you.”

Alarmed, then frustrated, Andy muttered, “Wasn’t goin’ nowhere.”

Billy stirred just enough to turn over on the blanket. Andy lay back down beside him, his stomach knotting with worry. His eyes remained open. He tried to think of a way that might allow him to get Billy out of this camp. If they could just reach their horses, they would not have to worry about saddling up. Neither had a saddle. They had been traveling bare-back.

He thought about the explosion of the empty bottle. In the dim light of the smoldering campfire he could see the traders’ packs of goods. He wondered what would happen to full whiskey bottles or jugs if they fell into the coals. He had had no experience with liquor. It might burn. On the other hand, like water it might simply put the fire out.

If it did burn, it should cause enough excitement to create a momentary diversion. After all, some people called it fire water.

He crawled to the edge of the blanket to see if he would be challenged as before. He was not. Jake seemed to have gone to sleep. Andy crawled a few inches more and paused, expecting someone to stop him. No one did.