It seemed to me that this, most likely, had been the final decision reached, and I determined to stick also, prepared to act at the earliest opportunity.

I could do no more.
It was only an accident which gave me a clue to the real program.
Mapes sent me back into the vacant space just forward of the paddle-wheel, seeking a lost cant-hook, and, as I turned about to return the missing tool in my hand, I paused a moment to glance curiously out through a slit in the boat's planking, attracted by the sound of a loud voice uttering a command.

I was facing the shore, and a body of men, ununiformed, slouching along with small regard to order, but each bearing a rifle across his shoulder, were just tipping the ridge and plowing their way down through the slippery clay in the direction of the forward gangway.

They were noisy, garrulous, profane, their mingled voices drowning the shouts of their officers, yet advanced steadily--the troops destined for Rock River were filing aboard.

I saw the column clearly enough, all the soldier in me revolting to such criminal lack of discipline, and the thought of hurling such untrained men as these into Indian battle.