Leon led the way, avoiding the principal streets as much as he could, and at the end of an hour the runaways struck the main road, about two miles above the village.
Settling down into a steady walk, they moved briskly along toward Franklin, but before they had gone many rods they heard a wagon coming up behind them.
"Let's wait and ask him to give us a ride," said Frank. "He is going our way."
"Not by a long shot," answered Leon quickly. "I am acquainted with almost everybody about here, and I won't take the risk. This man might know me. Let's hide and wait until he goes by."
Suiting the action to the word, Leon sprang into the bushes that lined the nearest fenceand crouched down among them, his example being promptly followed by his cousin.
In a few minutes the wagon came up and passed their hiding-place, but not so the dog which trotted along a little distance in the rear, industriously exploring the bushes on each side of the road.
His sharp nose quickly revealed to him the presence of the runaways, and, bounding toward the thicket in which they were concealed, he set up a terrific yelping.
"Get out there!" said Frank, in a savage whisper, lifting his rifle above his head.
The dog saw the motion and beat a hasty retreat; but he went no farther than the middle of the road, where he stopped and barked furiously.
"Knock him down with something," whispered Leon, in great excitement, as he searched frantically about on the ground for some missile to throw at the dog.
"Let's go out on the road," suggested Frank. "He'll leave if we start toward him."
"Yes; but I don't want that man to see us, for I don't know who he is."
"Well, he'll certainly see us if we allow this miserable cur to stay here and bark at us," returned Frank. "The first thing you know, his master will be back here to see what is up, and we'll be—— I declare! there he comes now."
Leon looked over the bushes and trembled in every limb when he saw the owner of the dog approaching.
He stopped by the side of the road, picked up a formidable-looking club, and after tryingits strength by striking it on the ground, he hurried toward the thicket in which the runaways were concealed.
"Sick 'em, Maje—sick 'em!" he shouted. "Take hold of 'em, you rascal!"
Thus encouraged, the dog bounded into the bushes, and in a moment more would have seized Frank by the leg, had he not received a terrific punch in the ribs from Leon's double-barrel.
That took all the fight out of him. With a howl of anguish, he ran back to the road and took refuge behind his master, who halted very suddenly.
He looked first at the dog and then at the bushes, and finally he began to back off toward his wagon.
It was evident that he did not think it safe to advance any nearer to the thicket, but he seemed determined to find out what it was that had taken refuge there, for, after he had retreated a short distance, he stopped and began swinging his club around his head.
In a moment more it would have been sent crashing into the fence corner, had notFrank, who could plainly see the motion, called out:
"What are you about there?"
"Good land o' Goshen!" exclaimed the man, lowering the threatening bludgeon. "Who be you, and what did you crawl in there for?"
"Now you've done it," whispered Leon in great alarm. "That's Mr. Jenkins—the farmer who supplies us with wood. I know his voice."
"I'll talk to him," whispered Frank, in reply. "You stay here, and when you hear me whistle, come out and bring my gun with you."
As he said this, he placed his rifle in his cousin's hand, picked up his valise, and walked out into the road.
The dog showed a disposition to be belligerent when he came in sight, but a few words from his master, accompanied by a flourish of the club, put a stop to his demonstrations.
"It's a pity that a fellow can't step aside to rest for a moment without having a dog set on him!" exclaimed Frank. "Is thatthe way you generally treat people in this country?"
"I declare to man, I didn't know it was a boy that was hid in them bushes," said the farmer apologetically. "I reckoned mebbe it was some kind of a varmint, 'cause Maje kicked up such a row. Goin' my way? Jump in, and I'll give you a lift."
"I am obliged to you, but I would rather walk."
"You can ride just as well as not," urged the farmer. "I aint got no load."
"Thank you! I don't care to ride," replied Frank, rather impatiently. "I am in no hurry."
The man lingered as if he wanted to say something else, but finally turned and went back to his wagon, followed by Maje, who looked over his shoulder and growled savagely at Frank, by way of bidding him good-night.
Presently the sound of wheels on the hard road told Frank that the farmer's wagon was in motion.
He waited until the sound grew faint in the distance, and after looking up and down theroad to make sure that there was no one else coming, uttered a low whistle.
In a few minutes Leon came up, and the two resumed their walk toward Franklin. This was the first and last adventure that befell the boys during their journey to the frontier.
They reached the town of Franklin in a little less than two hours, and there they purchased tickets for Albany, at which place—so they were told—they could procure through tickets to St. Louis.
The train arrived an hour later, and in five minutes more the runaways were being carried rapidly toward the happy hunting-grounds of which they had so often dreamed.
When they arrived at St. Louis, they boarded a steamer which carried them up the Missouri River, and in due time they found themselves, with their valises in their hands and their guns on their shoulders, standing on the levee at St. Joseph, at which point they had decided to fit out for the plains.
Had they enjoyed themselves during their trip? Certainly not. No one could takepleasure in a railroad or steamboat ride under such circumstances.
One strange thing we have to record here is that Frank was no longer the leader.
Being a city boy, he knew more about the ways of the world than his country cousin, and Leon had leaned upon and looked to him for advice; but after they had cut loose from home and friends, and were surrounded by strangers, Frank began to grow frightened, and lost a good deal of his assurance. He gradually fell back into the second place, and Leon stepped to the front and assumed command of the expedition. He had more pluck and determination than his cousin, and now these qualities began to show themselves.
The boys stopped on the levee, and gazed about them with the greatest interest.
St. Joe did not look much like Eaton. It was a frontier town at the time of which we write, and everything was new and strange to the runaways.
Canvas-covered wagons, such as emigrants use, were constantly passing; bearded men,in red shirts and high-top boots, were lounging about, and now and then an Indian, wrapped up to the chin in his blanket, would walk by with dignified step.
"Well, here we are," said Leon at length, "and I must confess that things don't look just as I thought they would."
"No, they don't; and I wish to goodness that we were safe at home again," said Frank, giving utterance to the thought that had passed through his mind a score of times since he left Eaton. "I am afraid we can't make a success of it."
"It is too late to talk that way," said his cousin. "You know that we discussed the matter thoroughly before we started, and made up our minds that we could face anything that came in our way."
"But I didn't know that frontiersmen were such rough fellows. Just look at these men standing around. Their appearance is enough to frighten one."
"If you are so easily frightened, what will you do when we get out to the mountains?" asked Leon.
Frank made no audible reply, but to himself he said:
"I don't intend to go to the mountains. I am just as far from home already as I want to be."
"Our first hard work must be to hunt up a hotel," continued Leon; "and our next, to find some experienced man who is good-natured enough to give us some advice."
The boys walked up the levee and turned into the first street that they found, and which proved to be the principal thoroughfare.
As they strolled slowly along, their attention was frequently attracted by such notices as these, which were posted in some of the store-windows:
Parties fitted out for the plains
They lingered long in front of these windows, and Leon's enthusiasm over the rifles, hunting-knives, and revolvers that were there displayed was so contagious that Frank forgothis homesickness and began to take a little more interest in things.
"Here's the place we're looking for!" exclaimed Leon at length.
As he spoke, he pointed to a sign that hung over the sidewalk.
Frank looked, and saw that it bore the words:
PRAIRIE HOTEL
"Of course, all the plainsmen must stop here," continued Leon. "We'll hang around for a day or two until we make the acquaintance of some of them, and perhaps they will tell us all we want to know. Let's go in."
Frank followed his cousin through the door, and found himself in the principal room of the hotel, which did duty as a parlor, office, and bar.
Every chair and bench was occupied, and there was a crowd of men about the counter who were talking loudly.
They were all rough-looking fellows, and Frank trembled when he saw that some ofthem wore revolvers and knives strapped about their waists.
These were mainly gold-hunters, who had just returned from the mountains. They had become so accustomed to wearing their weapons while they were in the mines that they did not think to take them off, even though they were among civilized people.
The room was dingy and smoky, and reminded Frank of the sailors' boarding-houses into which he had often glanced as he passed along the wharves of Boston.
The boys' first impulse, after they had run their eyes about the apartment and taken a good look at its occupants, was to open the door and go out again; but, before they could act upon it, the proprietor of the hotel, who had seen them enter, came briskly out from behind the bar and approached them.
He was as roughly dressed as any of his guests, and looked so fierce that, when he reached out his hand for Leon's valise, the boy surrendered it at once.
"Can I do anything for you?" said he.
Leon did not think it would be safe to tellthe man that he had concluded to look further for lodgings, so he asked, in reply:
"Can we stay here for a day or two?"
"You're mighty right," was the answer. "You're not from the plains?"
"No, sir; but we're going there."
"Then this is just the place for you. Some of the boys"—here the proprietor jerked his head toward the men standing before the bar—"are getting ready to start, and you can go with them."
The host deposited Leon's baggage behind the bar, and when he came back after Frank's gun and valise, the latter said:
"Can't you show us to our room, and take our luggage up there?"
"I can; but there's all sorts of fellows stop here, and you had better let me take care of your things. I'll be responsible for them."
"But we would like to perform our ablutions," said Frank.
"Which?" exclaimed the host.
"We want a good wash," explained Leon.
"Oh! Why didn't you say so? There is the sink, and plenty of towels and soap," saidthe man, nodding his head toward a corner of the room. "Pitch in as soon as you please."
With this remark, the proprietor—as if he considered that he had done his full duty toward his new guests—returned to his place behind the bar.
The boys walked up to the sink and took a survey of it. It contained two tin basins. Several pieces of hard soap were deposited upon a little shelf over it, and the towels looked as though they had done service for weeks.
"I have been used to better things than these," said Frank, who could hardly bring himself to touch one of the dingy basins.
"So have I," answered Leon; "but what's the good of growling? When you get out to the mountains you'll have to wash your hands and face in a brook, and dry them upon a piece of buckskin. We've got to rough it—that's what we came out here for—and we might as well begin now as a month later. We'll get used to it by the time we are settled as hunters."
Frank told himself, very emphatically, thathe never would be settled as a hunter. He was heartily tired of roughing it already and would have been glad to start for home long ago; but he knew by the way his cousin talked and acted that it would be of no use to propose such a thing; so, after a good deal of thinking, he had determined upon a course of action that was mean and cowardly in the extreme. He only waited for a favorable opportunity to carry his plans into execution.
After washing their hands and faces, and drying them upon the cleanest part of the long-used towels, the boys looked around until they found a couple of chairs that had just been vacated, and sat down to listen to the conversation of the miners, who had by this time drawn away from the bar, and were now seated around the stove, talking over their experience.
They talked principally about gold-hunting, but presently one of them launched out into a narrative that held his listeners spellbound.
It was about a fight he and his comrades had with a war party of Cheyennes who drove them away from their diggings.
This set the others going on the same subject, and from that hour until supper was announced the boys listened to stories of adventure and hair-breadth escapes from wild animals and Indians that were enough to frighten anyone.
For the first time since leaving home, Leon told himself that perhaps he had mistaken his calling.
If tall, broad-shouldered, powerful-looking men like these could be driven about like sheep by the wild inhabitants of the mountains and plains, what could a boy like himself do in combat with them?
As for Frank, the last particle of his courage oozed out at the ends of his fingers, and he was all the more determined to carry out the plans he had already formed.
He found that he had entertained very erroneous opinions regarding frontier life.
The heroes of his favorite books could not only whip a dozen Indians very easily, and come off without a scratch, but they could go alone into a hostile camp and rescue a "partner" who had been captured by them.
Here were men, however—live men, too—whowere willing to acknowledge that they had been whipped, that they had seen quite enough of savage life, and that they would be glad to reach home, where they could live in peace.
"Leon," said Frank suddenly, "don't you think you had better give me half the money you've got left? You pay all the bills, and that looks as though I was sponging on you."
"Never mind that," was the reply. "It's all in the family."
"But what if somebody should go through you?" urged Frank. "I suppose there are pickpockets here, as well as in the cities. If you lost your share, I'd have mine left to fall back on."
"But I don't intend that anybody shall go through me," answered Leon. "I'll take good care of the money, and pay your bills and mine, too."
"You had better keep close watch over it," said Frank to himself, "for, if I once get my hands on it, I'll take enough of it to see me safely back to Boston, I bet you. Leon," he added, almost desperately, "I am tired ofthis! Let's go back before it's too late. We must go some time."
"Ah, ha!" exclaimed his cousin. "That's the reason you want half the money, is it? Well, you can't have it! It is all very well for you to talk about going home, for you will go straight to Boston, and none of your friends there will ever know that you ran away—your folks, of course, won't say anything about it. But if I go home, I must go among those who know everything. No, sir! I'll never see Eaton again until I have made a name for myself!"
Frank, seeing that he had made a mistake, tried to turn the matter off with a laugh, and hastened to assure his cousin that if he was still determined to go through, he (Frank) would stand by him through thick and thin.
He hoped in this way to throw Leon off his guard, so that the latter would relax his vigilance and give him a chance to steal what was left of the six hundred dollars—for that was what he had determined to do.
We may add that he finally succeeded inhis object, and came very near getting himself into a desperate scrape by it.
When supper was announced, the boys followed the crowd into an adjoining room, and took the seats that were pointed out to them by their host.
It was not just such an apartment as that in which they had been accustomed to take their meals at home. It was almost as dingy as the bar. The rough tables were not very clean, and the dishes and viands were scattered about without the least regard to order.
They looked, Leon told himself, as though the waiter had stood off and thrown them at the table, and left them wherever they landed. But there was plenty to eat, and the boys, being very hungry, made a hearty supper.
When they had satisfied their appetites, they went back to the bar-room and sat down on one of the benches, while the gold-hunters smoked their pipes and told stories of life in the mines.
When eight o'clock came, Leon walked up to the bar and asked the landlord to show him and his cousin to their room.
In compliance with the request the man lighted a tallow candle, and, leading the boys up a narrow, winding stairway, ushered them into the most cheerless bedroom they had ever seen.
There was no carpet on the floor, and there were no chairs on which to deposit their clothing. In fact, the room contained nothing except a couple of beds, which looked as though the person who made them up must have been in a very great hurry.
"You two tumble into this one," said the landlord, placing the candle on the floor and nodding his head toward one of the beds. "You needn't mind locking your door, 'cause there's another fellow belongs up here."
"Who is he?" asked Frank.
"He's a hunter, and a mighty good one, too, I reckon, for he used to be post-hunter at Fort Laramie."
"Is he all right?"
"Ishe?" exclaimed the landlord. "He's the best fellow in the world; good-natured (he hasn't had but three fights since he's been here), free-hearted, and spends his money likewater. He killed eight hundred buffalo this season, and he's going back to kill some more. You needn't mind putting out your candle, 'cause he'll be up directly. He always goes to bed early since he and his money quit. Good-night!"
"That's just the man we want to see," exclaimed Leon, when the landlord had left the room. "He can tell us everything we want to know, and if he will let us, we can't do better than go with him."
The boys had hardly got into bed (Leon took the precaution to place his trousers, which contained the money, under his pillow) when a heavy step sounded in the hall, the door opened, and the third occupant of the room stalked in.
He was roughly dressed, and carried a knife and revolver in his belt.
The runaways, who looked at him with great interest, could not see much of his face, for the lower part of it was concealed by thick, bushy whiskers, which looked as though they had never been combed, and his slouch hat was drawn low over his forehead. There wassomething forbidding about him, but the boys could not have told what it was.
"Hallo, pilgrims!" said he, as he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at the runaways. "Are you the kids who are going out on the plains!"
"Yes, sir," answered Leon.
"Come from the States, I reckon, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir; and we're looking for somebody who can tell us just what we ought to do. We're going out to the mountains to hunt and trap. Do you think we can make a living at it?"
"Finest business in the world!" was the encouraging reply. "I know lots of fellows who are getting rich at it. It's a trifle rough sometimes if you get into the Injuns' hunting-grounds, but all you've got to do is to grab your spelter and skip out."
"I understand that you used to be post-hunter at Fort Laramie," said Frank.
"Yes; and I got kicked out 'cause me and the colonel couldn't hitch hosses," replied the man cheerfully.
If he had said that he had been detected in an attempt to rob the sutler's drawer, and had been obliged to leave the neighborhood of the fort in order to escape arrest, he would have been nearer the truth.
"Well, we are green——" began Leon.
"Yes; I knowed you were tenderfeet," interrupted the hunter.
"And we want to find somebody of experience who will take us in charge and manage matters for us," added Leon. "We don't know what kind of an outfit we want, or where to go to find good hunting-grounds."
"Have you got any money?"
"Plenty of it," answered Leon readily, "more than enough to foot all our—— O Frank, what do you mean?" he added, changing his tone very suddenly, as his cousin's elbow was brought against his side with considerable force.
Frank made no reply, and the hunter presently continued:
"You don't want to let anybody coax you into spending much of it for an outfit in this place, 'cause things is so dear. All you wantis a hoss, saddle and bridle, and a pair of saddle-bags. In the saddle-bags you can carry a little bacon, corn-meal, salt, pepper, coffee, and sugar, too, if you want it—as I reckon you do, being tenderfeet. Anything else you want to eat you can shoot as you go along."
"When do you start for the fort?"
"To-morrow."
"Now, why won't you let us go with you? We've got money, and——"
Again Frank's elbow came in vigorous contact with his cousin's ribs.
Then it began to creep through Leon's head that perhaps he was saying too much about his wealth; so he resolved to take the hints Frank had given him, and drop the subject.
"I'll take care of you," answered the hunter. "I was a tenderfoot myself once, and would have been glad to have somebody do as much for me."
Leon drew a long breath, and told himself that he had done a very sensible thing when he turned into the Prairie Hotel.
Here was a man who was an experienced hunter, who was recommended by thelandlord as being the best fellow in the world, who knew just what they wanted, and would assist in fitting them out for the plains.
Things could not have worked more to his liking.
The hunter had by this time extinguished the light and got into bed; but he did not seem at all inclined to sleep.
He talked incessantly for three hours, and kept the boys interested in what he had to say regarding a hunter and trapper's life.
During the progress of the conversation, the boys learned that their friend's name was Eben Webster; that he had left all his outfit, except his horse, at Laramie; that he had come down to St. Joe to rest, after a hard season's work on the plains, and that, having seen enough of civilization for the present, he was going to start back on the following morning.
He said he would pick out some saddle-horses for the boys, show them the way to the fort, where he would secure the rest of their outfit for them, and then he would lead them to the mountains, where they would spendthe rest of the winter together in hunting and trapping.
They were sure to have the best of luck, for he knew right where to go to find plenty of game; and if he didn't make good hunters of them before spring, so that they could start on their own hook, he would give them all the furs he caught.
Leon was highly excited over the prospect, and it was a long time after the conversation ceased before he fell asleep.
"You're a pretty fellow, you are!"
This was the way in which Leon was greeted by his cousin the next morning when he awoke.
It was broad daylight. The hunter had arisen at the first peep of day, and the boys were alone in their room.
"What's the matter now?" asked Leon, as he sat up in bed, pulled his trousers from under his pillow, and thrust his hand into his pocket to make sure that his money was safe. "I haven't been doing anything!"
"No; you haven't made a blunder this morning, for you haven't had time; but you made two fearful ones last night," replied Frank. "What in the world induced you to tell that man that you had a pocketful of money? He is a stranger to us, and we don't know whether he is honest or not."
"Perhaps I did talk a little too much," said Leon reflectively. "But I wanted to give him to understand that, if he would let us go with him, we would be no expense to him."
"Well, another time don't be in such haste to take a person you don't know into your confidence."
Leon could make no defence, so he said nothing.
He lay for a long time thinking over the conversation he and his cousin had had with the hunter the night before, and there was one thing upon which he dwelt with no little satisfaction.
This new friend had not tried to turn them from their purpose. On the contrary, he had said all he could to encourage them. If his statements were worthy of belief—and Leon did not doubt them in the least—a hunter's life was one of ease and romance, and the only one that was all sunshine. It was true that a hunter was sometimes in danger of his life, but that was a matter of no moment in the opinion of Eben Webster. It only served to put himon his mettle, and to relieve the monotony of his existence.
Eben, according to his own story, was a typical hunter. He was of the same stamp as those doughty heroes who figure so extensively in cheap novels. He had, time and again, whipped all the hostile warriors that could get around him; and as for bears and panthers, he thought no more of shooting them than Leon did of bringing down a grouse or squirrel.
The boy could not help telling himself that Eben's stories differed widely from those to which he had listened in the bar-room, but still his faith in his new friend was not shaken.
He believed the latter, because he pictured life in the mountains just as he hoped to find it. It never occurred to him that the hunter had told him a pack of falsehoods, but he found out afterward that such was the case.
The loud ringing of a bell at the foot of the stairs interrupted Leon's meditations, and brought him and his cousin out upon the floor in a twinkling. They dressed with all haste,and, descending to the bar-room, found the guests loitering about, awaiting the call to breakfast.
Eben was there, and he sat beside the boys at the table. His tongue ran as rapidly as it had run the night before, and, among other things, he told the boys that he had been busy that morning looking up a mount for them, and had found just what they wanted.
A couple of gold-hunters who were stopping at the hotel, and were going to start for the States that day, offered to sell the horses they had ridden from the mines for a mere song—twenty dollars apiece, including saddles, bridles, and saddle-bags.
"They can't be good for anything if they can be bought as cheap as that," said Leon. "My father's horse cost six hundred dollars."
"They're good enough to carry you to Laramie," answered the hunter, "and when we get there you can trade 'em off to the Injuns for better ones. What I want to make you understand is, that you don't want to spend a cent more in this town than you are obliged to. Things are so dear!"
This was the burden of Eben's advice to the boys, and he repeated it so often while they were purchasing their outfit that they began to wonder at it. Perhaps we shall presently see why it was that the man was so anxious to have Leon take good care of his money.
Breakfast being over, the miners who owned the horses were hunted up, and Eben and the runaways accompanied them to the stable.
The animals were brought out for their inspection, but the boys knew no more about them after they got through looking them over than they did before they saw them.
They were mustangs, and although in very good condition they were by no means handsome, and Frank did not hesitate to say so.
"'Handsome is that handsome does,' pilgrim," said one of the miners. "These hosses have been through two or three fights with Injuns, and if it hadn't been that they're just a trifle faster'n chain lightning, me and my partner wouldn't be here in St. Joe to-day. If we wasn't going back to the States, we wouldn't think of parting with 'em."
These words raised the mustangs wonderfullyin Leon's estimation. Without any further hesitation, he pulled out his roll of bills and paid for them on the spot.
The roll was still a pretty large one, although he had paid his own and his cousin's railroad and steamboat fare out of it. It was large enough to make Eben's eyes grow to twice their usual size, and if the boys had seen the expression that settled on his face, and could have read the thoughts that passed through his mind, it is possible that their own eyes would have been opened.
The horses having been purchased, but little remained to be done, and in an hour more the boys, accompanied by the hunter, were on their way to the plains.
Instead of their valise—for which the landlord had generously allowed them a dollar on their bill—the boys carried, strapped behind their saddles, two small meal-bags, which contained their clothing.
The saddle-bags were filled with provisions that the hunter had selected for them, and they were each provided with a lariat and picket-pin for staking out their horses at night.
Eben had protested earnestly against the expenditure of money for blankets, declaring that the boys' heavy overcoats would afford them all the protection they needed at night; but Frank declared that he had never read of a hunter lying before his fire wrapped in an overcoat, and so the blankets were purchased.
The first few days passed without the occurrence of any incident that is worthy of note. They travelled rapidly; for Eben declared that haste was necessary. It would not be many days, he said, before the cold winter storms would begin to sweep over the prairie—in fact, he had never known them to hold off so long before—and if they were caught out in a "blizzard," nothing but certain death awaited them.
So he had the boys up every morning before daylight, allowed them but a very short rest at noon, and kept them in the saddle long after dark.
It is needless to say that, not being accustomed to riding on horseback, they suffered severely; but the tireless mustangs on which they were mounted did not seem to mind it inthe least. They were as willing to go at nine o'clock at night as they were in the morning.
During the first week the boys saw absolutely nothing along their line of travel, for their time was fully occupied in trying to find an easy position in the saddle; but their aches and pains gradually left them as they became "hardened to it," and then Leon began to take some interest in the new and strange sights that met his gaze on every side.
He was very jubilant, Eben was talkative, and Frank was frightened and homesick. And the fact was, he saw a good deal to frighten him.
Every mile of the road was marked by the bleaching bones of horses and cattle, telling of disasters that had befallen some unfortunate emigrant, and now and then the sight of a human grave or the ruins of a "dug-out" would make the cold chills creep all over him.
There was a good deal of travel on the trail for that time of the year. Every day they passed long lines of heavily loaded freight wagons, and they, in turn, were passed by the coaches of the Overland Stage and MailCompany, which, drawn by four fleet horses and escorted by cavalrymen—who galloped along on each side of them—whisked by at the rate of ten miles an hour.
They also saw trains going the other way—empty freight-wagons, which a few weeks before had gone out loaded with government stores, and others driven by disgusted gold-hunters and emigrants, who were making all haste to reach the States.
The hunter always made it a point to travel rapidly whenever he and his companions met any of these returning wagons.
He took particular pains, also, when they began to think of stopping for the night, to ride so far beyond any camp they might find on the trail that the boys could not go back to visit it.
He did not intend to allow his young companions an opportunity to converse with any of the emigrants, for fear that they might hear something discouraging; but, in spite of all his precautions, they learned something along the route which Eben himself had learned at a station near which they made their camp a fewnights before, but which he studiously kept from the boys.
One afternoon, when they were about twenty miles from Julesburg, and 430 on their way toward Fort Laramie, one of the mail-coaches overtook them, accompanied, as usual, by four cavalrymen.
As the coach dashed by the sergeant who commanded the escort drew up his horse with a jerk, exclaiming:
"Where bound, pilgrims?"
"Fort Laramie," replied Leon, who was the first to speak.
"Laramie!" echoed the sergeant. "You will never see it this year. You'll do well if you get to Julesburg. You want to keep up with us if you can, because the reds have been jumping down on some of the coaches."
So saying, the officer touched his horse with his spurs, and galloped away in pursuit of the coach.
The sergeant's words produced the utmost consternation among those who heard them.
The boys turned white with terror, and cast anxious glances toward the surrounding swells, momentarily expecting to see a band of hostile warriors rise over their summits and swoop down upon them.
Eben was alarmed, too; but he did not show it as plainly as his companions did.
"There aint a word of truth in it," he said. "I have been along this trail more'n a hundred times, and never saw no Injuns yet. They wouldn't be roaming about the plains at this season of the year, anyway. They are up on the Big Horn, getting ready for winter."
"But what did the soldier mean when he said that we will do well if we reach Julesburg?" asked Frank in a trembling voice.
"He meant that it was going to snow," replied the hunter. "But I can read the signs like a book, and I know it won't snow for a week yet. But even if it does storm, we don't care, for we shall be in Julesburg to-morrow."
With this answer, Eben tried to turn the conversation into another channel, but the boys, being terribly frightened, could talk about nothing but Indians, and speculate upon their chances of reaching a place of safety.
The hunter stood it as long as he could, and then said, almost savagely:
"If there were Injuns about, you wouldn't see so many single wagons along the road. The emigrants would wait for one another, and make up a strong train, so that they could defend themselves."
Leon, who had all faith in the hunter, was somewhat reassured by these words, but Frank's terror increased every time he recalled the sergeant's warning.
Just before dark they passed a camp on the bank of a little stream, and Frank urged Eben to stop there, so that they could have company during the night; but the hunter, followinghis usual custom, rode by at a gallop, and as Leon went with him, Frank had to follow or be left alone.
"I can't stand this any longer, and I won't, either," said Frank to himself, as he galloped along behind his companions. "But after all, I don't see how I am going to help myself. I have waited and watched for an opportunity to get my hands on that money ever since we left St. Joe, and I haven't seen a ghost of a chance."
Frank was almost ready to cry with vexation and alarm. He did not know what to do; but as it happened, a way was most unexpectedly opened for him to carry out his plans that very night.
Eben kept his horse in a gallop until the emigrant's camp was left at least five miles behind, and then, drawing rein in a little clump of willows, announced that they would stop there until morning.
The weary boys swung themselves from their saddles, and set about the performance of certain duties that had been assigned them when the journey first began.
Frank's business was to cut wood enough to keep the fire burning all night, and although he appeared to work industriously, he spent more than half his time in watching his cousin's movements.
He saw him take his saddle-bags from his horse, lift up the flap that covered one of the pockets and thrust his hand into the bag.
Then he placed the bags upon the ground near the spot on which the fire was to be built, and piled his saddle, blankets, and overcoat upon them, taking care to arrange all the articles in such a position that he could tell at a glance if any of them had been disturbed.
"He has done that every noon and night for the last week," soliloquized Frank, "and now I am satisfied that the money is in those saddle-bags. Mine look exactly like his, and if I see a chance I'll exchange with him and leave. I am sure I could find my way back to that emigrant's camp, and perhaps I could induce him to let me ride in his wagon as far as St. Joe."
The supper, consisting of bacon and crackers which Leon had purchased at one of the mailstations, was ready in due time, and when it had been disposed of the travellers lay down beside the fire—Eben on his soldier's overcoat and the boys on their blankets—and talked themselves to sleep—that is, Leon and the hunter went to sleep, but Frank kept wide awake. He had no intention of closing his eyes that night.
Before lying down, Leon had placed his saddle-bags across his saddle in the same position they occupied when he was on horseback, and the pocket which contained the money was under his shoulders, while his head rested in the hollow of the saddle, which he used as a pillow.
These precautions almost disheartened Frank, who, for six long hours, lay there, within easy reach of his cousin, revolving in his mind various plans for obtaining possession of the coveted treasure.
Two or three times he reached out his hand and tried to pull the saddle-bags from under Leon's shoulders, but every time he did so Leon stirred in his sleep, and Frank was obliged to desist.
He was almost ready to give up in despair, when, to his great joy, his cousin, in tossing about and trying to find a more comfortable position, rolled partly off his rude bed.
Frank was prompt to seize upon the opportunity thus presented, for it was now or never.
As quick as thought, he drew the saddle-bags toward him, unbuckled the flap, and plunged his hand in the pocket.
As he did so, his fingers came in contact with something wrapped up in a piece of paper.
Hardly able to suppress the cry of exultation that arose to his lips, he seized upon it, and, raising himself to his knees, untied the paper with hands that trembled violently.
The fire, which the hunter had replenished several times during the night, was burning brightly, and, by the aid of the light it threw out, Frank saw that he had found what he wanted.
The next thing was to leave the camp without arousing either of his companions.