Following the Smith River, north, between the Big Belt Mountains to the west and the Little Belts to the east, it was an uneventful scouting mission during the three and a half days it took to get to Great Falls. Near the north end of the Little Belts at Hound Creek, the patrol frightened a herd of deer as they approached the bank of the creek. Corporal Johnson was quick to suggest it was an opportunity to supplement their rations. But Conner, knowing their time was short enough to complete their mission as it was, refused permission. Hawk had to laugh at Johnson’s disappointment because there did seem to be deer aplenty.

At Hawk’s suggestion, they went into camp close to Luther Trotter’s trading post, which was located on the Missouri River at its confluence with the Sun River. Hawk figured if anyone knew anything about the mule train, it would most likely be Luther. So, while the patrol began the process of going into camp, Hawk continued a little farther down the river to the trading post. As often happened, Luther was sitting on the porch in his rocking chair, smoking his pipe.

“I declare, it’s gettin’ to where you’re comin’ by right regular,” Luther greeted him when Hawk pulled Rascal up at the rail. “If I recollect right, that’s twice in the last six months.”

“Maybe so,” Hawk replied. “Have you been outta that chair since I saw you last?”

“A time or two, maybe,” Luther said with a chuckle. “Come on inside and I’ll pour you a drink, and you can tell me what brings you up our way this time.” He got up from his chair, banged his pipe on his boot heel to knock the ashes out, and led Hawk into the store. “This got anythin’ to do with those folks gone missin’ on their mules?”

“Matter of fact,” Hawk answered. “I left a cavalry patrol about half a mile back up the river, sent up here from Fort Ellis to see if we could find out what happened to those folks. They’re goin’ into camp now, gettin’ ready to eat supper, so I thought I’d give you some warnin’ that you’re liable to see some of ’em here tonight.”

“’Preciate the business,” Luther said as he poured Hawk a shot of whiskey. Fully aware of the real courtesy the big scout was extending, he added, “It’s a good time for the army to call. There ain’t no riffraff hangin’ around right now. Always happy to do business with the U.S. Army.”