With his hands tied in back of him and his ankles lashed firmly together, Francis had plenty of time to think. Most of his thoughts were about the mountain man. How could he come into the Pawnee camp and not be harmed? And why had he come? Was he a friend of the Indians?

There were no answers in that dark corner of the lodge, but one thing was plain. The Pawnee weren’t going to kill the mountain man. Just the opposite—his arrival was to be the reason for a full day of celebrating. Francis heard all the preparations, and with this knowledge, his heart sank. Any man that friendly with the Pawnees wouldn’t be likely to offer him help in escaping.

All that day he lay in the lodge, wondering. He got no food and no water. By nine that night, when the dancing had reached its full frenzy, he at last fell asleep.

Francis wasn’t sure of the time when he opened his eyes, but it was either very late that same night or very early the following morning. He did know why he had awakened. There was a calloused hand clamped over his mouth, and in the darkness of the lodge, he could make out the shape of a derby.

It was the mountain man.

Francis felt the bushy beard against his ear, and heard a whisper.

“Don’t move. No sound. Just blink your eyes if you hear me and are wide awake.”

Francis blinked, and the hand was taken off his mouth.

“Can you ride?” the mountain man asked, still whispering hoarsely.

Francis nodded.

“Good. In back of the lodge you’ll find a little black mare I swiped from the Pawnee herd. Walk her out of camp with your hand over her muzzle. When you’re safely out of camp, get on her and ride as hard as you can with the North Star on your right shoulder—” He stopped suddenly as Francis’s “mother,” across the lodge, turned in her sleep. In a second he continued, “If you ride hard enough, and don’t hit a hole somewhere, dawn will catch you at a small creek. Take the mare right into the middle of the creek and head upstream. Keep going in the water until you think you’re going to drop, then go another ten miles. If you stop, they’ll get you. Now, did you understand all that?”

Francis nodded again, “Where will you be?” he asked, rubbing his wrists, which the mountain man had cut loose while he was talking.

“Why, I’ll be sitting right here in camp,” the mountain man answered, chuckling softly, “eating a good breakfast, wondering whether or not they’ve caught you. If they don’t, I’ll see you in a couple of days. Now, are you going to sit and jaw all night or get riding?”