own camp."

"Yes, your camp, containing seventy thousand true and tried soldiers. Those who have shared your victories with you. Seventy thousand soldiers! ha! ha! ha!"

"Johnson, I do not like your sarcasm. Better the enemy should over-estimate our numbers. It will intimidate them."

"Intimidate! Whom?"

"Why, not only the soldiers of the army, but their generals!"

"Asboth?"

"Yes!"

"Sturgis?"

"Yes!"

"Hunter?"

"Yes!"

"Sigel and Fremont?"

"Yes; even Sigel and Fremont can be intimidated."

"Perhaps—by an earthquake, but not by you, General Price. Asboth is a soldier, and does not know the meaning of the word fear. Sturgis—you have met him once—do you wish to meet him again? Hunter—there is lightning in his eyes; if he does not fight, it will be for want of a foe. Sigel—do you remember Wilson's Creek?"

"But of Fremont—what of him?"

"He will meet you here, if you dare remain; and his soldiers will come with him."

"Well, it may be so. Their army is now at Warsaw. They must be detained for some days yet. They are constructing a bridge at that point across the Osage, and you will have sufficient time to visit their camps, and return before they advance. If it should be advisable to move, you can apprize us in time."

"When shall I start?"

"Now."

"Well, your instructions."

"Johnson, I confess I fear to meet that man Fremont. And yet I hate him with a bitterness which poisons all my joys. Tell him we number seventy-five thousand fighting men, well armed and disciplined. That we are strongly fortified, and for them to advance would be certain death. Tell him it is a mistake that my soldiers are discontented, but will all fight to the last. Will you tell him this?"

"I will."

"Your safety may depend upon it, for I will fight if I am compelled to face him with a single regiment. Last night I held a council with my officers, and we resolved to make a stand here. To retreat farther will be to bring shame upon us, and to stamp us as cowards. And I believe there is not a dozen men in my army who would not die before they would be branded as cowardly. I rely upon their pride, rather than their loyalty."

"That must be your appeal. Shall I go now?"

"Yes! Stay, Johnson; return by to-morrow night and tell me Fremont is dead, and you shall be richly rewarded. Tell me Sigel is also dead, and you shall have command of the second regiment."

"Sigel and Fremont shall die!"

"You swear it?"

"Yes, I swear they shall die, when—"

The remaining portion of the sentence was inaudible.

"Ugh!"

Startled, Price turned to behold, at the base of the rock upon which he was standing, an Indian, who was, apparently, fast asleep.

"Do you know that red devil?" asked Price, turning to Johnson.

"Let me see."

Johnson bent over the edge of the rock, and for some time remained silent. At last he said:

"'Tis Red-wing, as he is called by the people hereabouts; one of the Osage tribe, I believe. But you will find little good in him, although he might be made serviceable, if you could keep whiskey from him."

"Red-wing," shouted Price.

"Ugh!"

"You red devil, get up and show your colors, or I will send a bullet through your head!" exclaimed Johnson.

There was no reply. Johnson raised his rifle, but the Indian had risen, and fixing a glance of hatred upon Johnson, he said:

"Give Indian whiskey—me fight for you—me kill for you—give Indian whiskey."

Price leaped from the rock, and motioned them to follow. In a few moments he reached camp, closely followed by Johnson and the Indian.

The appearance of the rebel camp was somewhat singular.

Around the camp-fires were crowds of listless men and boys, who watched the approach of their commander with calm indifference. He passed on in silence, occasionally returning the salute of his officers, but did not pause until he reached a tent located upon a high bluff, and almost concealed from view by a thick growth of oaks. Around this tent were others, less grand in appearance, which were occupied by the leaders of his army. Stretching for some distance below, was an open field, over which were scattered rude tents, of a great variety in form and appearance. Bed blankets, worn and various in their colors, were stretched across poles, at either end of which was placed a supporting stake, cut from the surrounding branches. All looked comfortless.

Mingled with these were seen rows of small canvas tents, giving the encampment more of a warlike aspect. The arms were also varied in their patterns. Some of them bore the appearance of the regular United States army rifle, while others were the ordinary hunting rifle or shot gun. Occasionally were to be seen soldiers in uniform, but in most instances the rough blue home-spun was worn.

As the Indian passed through the camp, his eyes wandered carelessly over the scene. When Price reached his tent, an orderly arose to receive him, and the general said:

"Send a corporal and ten men to my tent."

Then turning to Johnson, he added:

"You are known, and will require no escort beyond our lines. I shall question this Indian closely, and perhaps use him. Go!"

"Yes, general," replied Johnson, and turning he departed.

By this time a large number of officers had gathered near the tent of Price, and silently awaited the examination of the Indian, who they evidently supposed to be a spy from the Union army. Unconscious of their presence, or at least appearing to be so, the Indian stood with folded arms before the tent of the rebel general.

In a few moments Price appeared, pausing directly before the Indian. Their eyes met, and for some time they regarded each other in silence. At length Price asked:

"What is your name?"

"Me Indian—brave!"

"You are an Indian chief!"

"Me no chief!"

"Do you know me? I am chief here. Look around you—behold my warriors. They are all brave. They will conquer the enemy. If you will bring your warriors and fight with me, your hunting grounds will be safe, and your fathers' graves sacred. If these invading robbers should conquer us, you will lose your grounds; the graves of your sires will be polluted by their unholy touch, and you and your people made slaves! Will you fight with us?"

"Ugh!"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Price.

"Me ask chief."

"What is your name?"

"Red-wing."

"To what tribe do you belong?"

"Osage."

"Red-wing, don't attempt to deceive me. I can read your very thoughts!"

"Cowwewunk!"

"Yes, I know you. You are a spy, and direct from the federal camp. You pretended sleep as you were lying at the foot of yonder rock, that you might hear all my conversation and report it. You have heard too much. Are there any here who have seen this fellow before?" asked Price, turning to his soldiers.

"I have seen him, and know him," replied one of the men, stepping forward. "He is called Fall-leaf, and is chief of the Delaware tribe."

The Indian sprang forward, and in an instant had broken through the crowd which encircled him, and with the speed of a deer, dashed toward the distant cliffs.

"Fire upon him!" shrieked Price.

A hundred rifles were raised, but the Indian was darting among the tents in such a manner, that no opportunity for accurate aim could be had.

"Curses on it, he will escape!" yelled Price. "Here Barclay, Rains, all of you, mount and follow. I must have that red devil, dead or alive. If he escapes, he will bear important information to Fremont."

Price sprang into his saddle and dashed forward in pursuit. He was soon followed by a score of others.

"By heavens, they have seized him!" cried Price, as he approached the outer lines of the camp, where stood the guard tent.

So it was. Just as