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without getting wet. The current was clear and so icy that it was
evident it had its source in the mountains.
The wagons were ranged as usual in a circle with the animals
surrounded, where there was enough grass for their supper. Some
trouble was met in getting all the wood needed, but enough was
obtained to serve for the preparation of supper. By that time the air
had become so chilly that the blaze was carefully nursed in order to
reinforce the blankets. The effort, however, was not very successful.
The fact that no Indians had been seen for the last two or three
days did not affect the watchfulness of the company. The usual
guards were stationed, and it again fell to the lot of Alden Payne to
act as one of them. Jethro Mix was placed at the wagon which stood
next to his, the duty of both being to serve until midnight. Shagbark,
who seemed to sleep only now and then, for brief intervals, decided
by and by, to take a long rest. He never occupied any of the wagons,
but wrapping his heavy blanket around his shoulders, lay down near
the smouldering camp fire, with the animals grouped on all sides. It
was always understood that if anything occurred he was to be
roused at once. The men had learned much during the long journey
thither of the ways of the plains, but he never fully trusted them.
The steady tramping, riding and the dragging of the heavy
Conestogas made the rest welcome to men, women, children and to
the animals. By nine o’clock everything was in the form it would be
two hours later, provided no disturbance took place.
Night had hardly shut in, when a mile or so to the westward the
lights of another camp twinkled through the darkness. All knew it
came from the party that had been traveling near them for several
days past. Shagbark had spoken of riding forward with Alden and
making a call upon the emigrants, but decided to wait a while.
The night was similar to that of the Indian attack. Perhaps there
were more clouds drifting across the sky, but the moon near the full,
plowed through the snowy masses and made the illumination fitful
and uncertain. Sometimes one could see objects for a hundred yards
and more, and then the view was shortened to half that distance.
Alden was leaning against a wheel of the vehicle, in his favorite
attitude. Now and then when he felt a faint drowsiness stealing over
him, he moved about for a brief space until he felt fully awake. Then
he listened to the heavy breathing which came from some of the
wagons, to the stamping of the horses, some of which were still on
their feet, with an occasional murmur of voices from those who had
not yet drifted into forgetfulness.
Suddenly through the stillness, Jethro Mix called in a husky
undertone:
“Helloa, Al, am you dere?”
“Of course I am; what do you want?”
“Dere’s somebody out dere, and not fur off, too!” was the startling
explanation of the hail. “Haben’t you seed him?”
“No. Is it an Indian?”
“Dunno; he’s on de back ob a hoss; come ober here and take a
look fur yourself.”
Alden knew the objection to leaving his post, but he thought the
circumstances justified him in joining his friend for a few minutes.
He hastily crossed the intervening space.
“Where did he show himself, Jeth?”
“Right in front ob us; wait till dat cloud passes and you’ll see him
suah.”
The surprise came the next moment, when the clearing sky
disclosed not one, but two horsemen, a few rods away. They had
halted their ponies and were sitting side by side, evidently studying
the camp as if in doubt whether to venture nearer. The first sight
showed they were not Indians, but white men. Two equestrian
statues could not have been more motionless than they.
 Placing one hand as a funnel, Alden called in a low voice:
“Helloa, neighbors! Why don’t you come forward?”
By way of reply the couple twitched their reins and rode to the
edge of the camp. Neither dismounted. Alden noted that one was a
large, bearded man, while his companion was a youth of about his
own age. The two wore broad brimmed hats, which partly hid their
features, but when the elder spoke, Alden fancied there was
something familiar in his voice.
“Good evening, friends,” he said. “We meant to call earlier, and it
has grown so late that we shall defer it to-night. I presume all
except the guards have turned in?”
“They did so some time ago; it will not do for us to leave our
stations, but we shall be glad to welcome you at any other time. You
belong to the company that has gone into camp a little way from
here?”
“Yes; we have been in sight of each other for several days; had
the situation become threatening because of Indians, I should have
proposed that we unite, but everything seems to be peaceful.”
“Have you had no trouble with them?”
“None whatever, though we have seen many parties at a
distance.”
“We were attacked one night some weeks ago along the Platte,
but drove them off without harm to us.”
“How was it with them?” asked the man significantly.
“We got several who were too venturesome.”
Jethro could not restrain himself any longer.
“Yas, and de fust warmint dat got soaked, he done it—suah as
you’s born!”
“I congratulate you on your success; doubtless it had much to do
with repulsing your enemies.”
 “Jethro told you the incident so as to force me to say that he
picked off another of the redskins. Incredible as it may sound, it is
true.”
The man in the saddle looked down with renewed interest upon
the burly African, who had set the stock of his rifle on the ground,
folded his arms over the muzzle, and assumed a lolling attitude, as if
the matter was of no concern to any of them.
“Dat ain’t nuffin,” he said airily; “de sarpint furgot dat I was on de
lookout fur him and as soon as he fired and missed, why, I plugged
him; ’tain’t wuth speaking ’bout.”
“Fortunate is that company which has two such sentinels as you,”
commented the man, with something like a chuckle; “if we run into
danger from Indians, shall we be able to borrow you two, or if your
friends cannot spare both, can we have one?”
“Who would be your choice?” asked Alden, entering into the spirit
of the moment.
“Jethro, as you call him; of course he’s the most valuable.”
“Dunno ’bout dat,” said the African with dignity; “de wimmin folks
and de children will blubber so hard when dey find I think ob leabin’
dem dat Shagbark won’t be likely to allow it; howsumeber, I’ll think
it ober.”
“Thank you; you are very kind.”
During the conversation, which continued for several minutes
longer, with nothing of moment said, the youth who accompanied
the elder caller did not speak a word. He seemed to be peering from
under his hat at Alden, as if studying him.
“Well,” said the man, “we shall ride back to camp now and
doubtless shall soon see you again. I need not assure you that you
and your friends will be welcome at all times. My name is Garret
Chadwick, and I have charge of the other company. My friend here is
my nephew, Ross Brandley.”
 “Very glad to have met you. I am Alden Payne, and I am on my
way from St. Joe to join my father, who left for California some
months ago.”
As Alden spoke he made a military salute to the two. The elder
returned it, but his companion slightly nodded without speaking or
saluting. The two then wheeled their animals and rode off at a walk.
The incident showed there was nothing to be feared from hostiles
for some time to come. Alden, therefore, did not scruple to linger for
a few minutes with his sable friend.
“Jeth, there was something familiar in that man’s voice.”
“Ob course dere was; doan’ you remember him?”
“No; do you?”
“You hain’t forgot dat splendid fout you begun wid dat chap in St.
Joe when he butted into you?”
“Certainly not.”
“Wal, dat’s de gemman dat pulled you apart.”
“And that fellow with him is the one who struck me?”
“Suah’s you’s born; he knowed you, if you didn’t know him; I seed
him watching you mighty sharp, as if he was achin’ to get another
chance at you; he’d done it, too, if his uncle hadn’t been wid him.”
“If the chance ever does come, he’ll find me ready,” said Alden,
compressing his lips, for the memory of the insult rankled. “I
remember he called him ‘Ross’ in St. Joe, but forgot it a minute ago.”
“Why doan’ you ask him to come alone and wisit us?”
“If he called here it would be as my guest, and that would never
do: it would be a breach of hospitality.”
“Den go ober and wisit him.”
“That would place him in my position as it is now. No; we shall
have to meet on common ground. He must have thought I
recognized him,” added Alden with a thrill of disgust, “and wanted to
make friends with him. I hope we shall come together pretty soon,
where nothing can prevent a settlement of our quarrel.”
“And dat ’minds me, Al, dat I haben’t tole you my big secret yit.”
“I don’t care anything about your secret,” replied his master
impatiently, for he was in anything but an amiable frame of mind.
“Attend to your duty and I will attend to mine.”
With which the youth walked back to his own wagon and resumed
his task of sentinel while most of the company slept.
 CHAPTER X
A HUNT

S ince there was no call for haste, the progress of the emigrant
train sometimes ceased altogether. This was the case on the
morning following the incident just related. The cause of the
stoppage was to permit Shagbark to go a-hunting. They had entered
a region some time before where game abounded, and his policy
was to use as little of the reserve supplies as possible. The day was
likely to come when they would have no other recourse. It was not
practical to carry much fodder for the animals, but even that scant
supply was hoarded against the inevitable “rainy day.”
Although the American bison or buffalo has been virtually extinct
for years, the animals were numbered by the hundred thousand on
the western plains at the time we have in mind. The droves seen in
the distance seemed often to cover a fourth of the horizon, and their
dark, shaggy backs as they cropped the herbage and hitched
continually forward, were like the fretted waves of the sea. Shagbark
had shot a number, and twice he took Alden and Jethro with him on
the excursions. A nearly fatal result to Alden followed the attempted
slaying of an enormous bull by shooting him in the head instead of
just behind the fore leg, but the mistake was not repeated. Jethro
showed his natural timidity, and kept as close as he could to the
veteran, while Alden indulged in spurts of his own which more than
once brought results.
Shagbark, however, was not partial to buffalo meat, which many
of his friends found coarse and tough. They preferred venison, which
was not always tender, and they were able to obtain considerable
quantities of it. He regarded the antelope with more favor than
either. So it came about on the morning referred to, that he and the
two youths set out to shoot some of the timid creatures.
Occasionally Mr. Fleming and some of his friends took part in the
hunts, but they preferred to stay in camp on this day and let the trio
prove their prowess.
The effect of this halt was to increase the distance between the
party and the one in advance, to which Garret Chadwick and his
nephew belonged; for the latter company moved at an early hour
and were many miles distant before nightfall.
Antelope hunting has been too often described for me to dwell
upon this particular venture. When the three rode over the plains to
the northwest in the direction of the towering Laramie Mountains,
not one of the animals was in sight, nor had the guide seen any on
the previous day. He had been over the region before, however, and
knew he would not have to hunt long.
He first headed toward a ridge which rose two hundred feet or
more above the prairie, showing few boulders and rocks, and no
trees. Beyond it stretched a beautiful valley to the foothills of the
mountain range. This space was several miles in width, and a small,
clear stream meandered through the valley, on its way to the
Sweetwater, and thence to the North Platte. Shagbark gave it as his
belief that some of the animals would be found in the valley, and, as
usual, he was not mistaken.
The American antelope or pronghorn is a native of the plains near
the Rocky Mountains. Nearly always the upper parts of its body are
yellowish brown in color, while the under parts, the sides and the
head and throat and the buttocks are white. It sheds the bony
sheath of its horns every year. It may be worth noting that this
creature is known also by the names of prongbuck, pronghorned
antelope, cabrèe and cabut.
The most peculiar trait of the antelope is its curiosity. But for this
weakness, it would be almost impossible for a hunter to get within
range of the game. Lying in the grass, where his body is invisible,
the man lifts his hat or a handkerchief on the muzzle or ramrod of
his rifle. The moment the animal sees it he bounds off in a panic,
but does not go far before he halts and looks back. The odd sight
has roused his curiosity, and he gingerly draws near, ready to dash
away again in the instant danger shows himself.
All the hunter needs to have is patience. The creature is sure to
come within reach of his gun and fall a victim to the infirmity that
had proved the undoing of many a human being. It is hard to
understand this singular failing of the antelope.
At the base of the ridge Shagbark drew rein and his companions
did the same.
“Don’t stir from hyar,” he said, “till I give ye the word.”
Dismounting, he walked briskly up the slope until near the top.
There he slackened his pace, stooped low, and reaching a favorable
point, removed his hat and peeped cautiously over. Alden and
Jethro, who were watching him, saw him remain stationary for a
minute or two. Then he crouched still lower, donned his hat and
hurried back to them.
“Thar’s three of ’em,” he said, “and we oughter bag ’em all.”
“I shall be glad to do my part,” replied Alden.
“Which de same am likewise de fac’ as regards myself,” added
Jethro.
The guide explained his plan, which, it may be said, caused Alden
mild surprise, inasmuch as it gave the African the post of honor.
Shagbark had described so often the method employed in hunting
the antelope that the youths understood it theoretically. It remained
for them to prove that they had a practical knowledge also.
Shagbark remarked that everything was in their favor. The slight
breeze came directly from the animals, so it could not carry the
scent of the hunters to them. In the circumstances, with the
protection of the grass, it ought to be easy to steal within gunshot of
the game, provided their inquiring nature was turned to good
account.
 Jethro was to move along the slope parallel with it, until he had
gone an eighth of a mile, when he was to creep over the crest with
the utmost caution and sneak into the grass on the other side. Once
there he must advance slowly and with the utmost care toward the
antelope. If they took the alarm, which they were almost certain to
do, he should cease moving, lie flat and raise his hat on the ramrod
of his gun, one end of which was to be thrust into the soft earth.
Then the old performance would follow. One or more of the
animals would begin a timid, hesitating approach, frequently
bounding or circling away for some distance, halting and advancing
again, hypnotized by the singular sight whose nature they could not
fathom without a closer view.
“All ye’ve got to do is to lay still with yer gun p’inted and yer finger
on the trigger till he comes within reach. Then let him have it.”
“What will become of de oders?” asked Jethro.
“We’ll ’tend to them.”
“Am de antelope a wery savage critter, Mr. Shagbark?” asked
Jethro, with so much misgiving as to rouse the waggery of the
trapper.
“He stands next to the grizzly b’ar: he kin use them horns and
sharp hoofs and chaw up a wolf while ye’re winking an eye.”
“Yas, sir,” said Jethro, swallowing a lump in his throat, as he set
out to obey the directions of the guide.
Shagbark and Alden had little to do for an indefinite period except
to watch the course of the African, who had every reason to look for
success, since all the conditions, as the hunter had said, were
favorable. In addition, it has been shown that the dusky youth was a
fair marksman.
He kept below the crest of the ridge and walked fast, until he had
gone even farther than told to go. Finally he crept up the slope, and
like his director, removed his hat and cautiously looked over the
summit of the ridge.
 He as well as the antelope was in sight all the time, and Shagbark
and Alden did not allow any of his movements to escape them. They
saw him pass slowly over the top of the elevation and down the
other side, where it was not so easy to trace him, because of the
abundance of grass which screened the amateur hunter.
“Sometimes I think he isn’t such a big fool as he looks,” said the
guide, after Jethro had begun worming his way through the
vegetation. “I couldn’t do any better than he’s done so fur, but it’s
best to wait to see how he makes out.”
“That is my opinion—helloa! what’s up now?”
The largest of the animals, evidently a buck, was cropping the
grass a few yards nearer the negro than were the other two animals.
The three remained thus employed for some time after Jethro had
left the base of the ridge. That which caused the exclamation of
Alden was the action of the buck. He suddenly stopped grazing,
threw his head high in air and stared in the direction of the invisible
hunter.
“He seems to be alarmed over something; it can’t be he has
scented Jethro.”
“I might think so, for it’s easy to do that with him, if it warn’t that
the wind blows the wrong way. But they’re mighty cute critters, and
the buck is scared over something. Now’s the time when the darky
oughter stop.”
“He seems to have done that. He is half hidden by the grass, but I
don’t think he is stirring.”
From their elevation the couple by using care could peer over the
crest without drawing the attention of the game to themselves.
Looking down on the colored youth, as he was partly revealed, it
was evident he had noticed the action of the prongbuck. Jethro had
ceased moving, and sank so flat on the ground that the game
became invisible to him.
 Waiting thus a few minutes, he slowly raised his head, parting the
spears in front until once more he saw the game.
The two had not stopped grazing for a moment, and the buck now
lowered his head and resumed feeding. If he had been alarmed his
fears quickly left him.
Jethro resumed his painstaking progress and kept it up until within
two hundred yards of the group, no one of which raised a head. The
distance was too great for a shot, though he might have succeeded
in his aim. Seeming to think he had gone far enough, the youth now
resorted to the usual trick, which has been described. Drawing his
ramrod from its place under the barrel of his rifle, he placed his hat
over one end and pushed the other down in the ground so hard that
it stood upright without aid from him. That which followed was
beyond the comprehension of either Shagbark or Alden.
The signal had hardly been set in place, when the buck flung up
his head again. What induced him to do so cannot be told, unless it
was that mysterious “sixth sense,” which some believe belongs to
men and animals alike. There had not been the slightest noise, and
it has been said that what little breeze was blowing could not carry
the scent across the space.
But the first glance of the buck was at the hat on the upright stick.
Almost immediately he wheeled and ran a dozen paces, his
companions following. Then he paused, stared and walked toward
the scarecrow, as it may be called. He did not go much nearer than
before, and when he turned, ran round in a large circle, halted once
more and repeated the movement described.
This peculiar performance continued until the buck was no more
than a hundred yards from the dusky hunter lying low in the grass.
Then his halt and stare were longer than before. His companions
now caught to some extent his excitement. They discerned the
cause, trotted here and there and back again, and looked and acted
as if they wished to leave the spot, but could not shake off the
attraction which drew them to the danger point.
 It was noticeable, however, that the females did not approach the
signal so near as their leader. They were as content for him to take
the main risk as he was to take it upon himself.
“Why doesn’t Jethro fire?” asked Alden impatiently; “the antelope
is within easy range, and he can bring him down dead sure.”
“I’ve been wondering over the same thing,” said Shagbark; “he
can shoot from the grass or stand up and pick off the critter afore he
turns. That’ll send the others this way and we’ll pick ’em off. What’s
the matter with the chump?”
Jethro had partly risen from the ground and was seen more clearly
by his friends. From his position the shot would have been an easy
one. Shagbark had expected from the first that the African would
make such an attempt. The plan, as has been shown, would have
bagged all three of the antelope.
Jethro was seen to rise higher, though still stooping, and grasp his
gun, which, however, he did not bring to his shoulder. Then he
suddenly wheeled without firing a shot and ran at headlong speed
directly away from the buck!
The most forcible exclamation that Alden Payne had ever heard
from the lips of Shagbark was uttered at the astounding sight. The
terrified buck had turned and dashed off with the speed of the wind
in the opposite direction, running so swiftly that he drew away from
his two charges.
“Don’t stir,” whispered the guide; “I’ll take the buck and you the
one next to him; don’t fire till I give the word.”
The two were lying on their faces with their guns pointed over the
crest of the ridge. The three animals in their panic came not straight
toward the couple, but took a diagonal course which promised to
bring them within easy range. Their extreme sensitiveness to scent
and sound was familiar to Shagbark, and he knew they would turn
aside before coming very near.
 The buck detected his danger a minute later. In running from one
of the ogres that strode through the country on two legs, he was
leading his charges directly upon another.
In the same instant that the new peril flashed upon him, he
veered abruptly to the right, still skimming the prairie with amazing
speed.
“Now!” whispered Shagbark, pressing the trigger of his weapon.
There was only a second or two between the reports, and it is
enough to say that each shot was perfect in its way. Like all their
species, the antelope ran quite a distance after being mortally
smitten.
The third was far beyond reach before either could reload his
piece. Jethro would have fired had not the new turn of affairs
thrown him out of range of all the animals. Seeing the two fall, he
trotted forward with a huge grin on his ebon countenance. Allowing
the carcasses for Shagbark to look after, the angered Alden turned
upon the servant and exclaimed:
“Of all fools that I ever saw you’re the champion!”
“How’s dat?” asked Jethro, still smiling.
“When you had the best chance in the world to bring down that
buck why didn’t you do it, instead of running away from him?”
Jethro shook with exulting laughter.
“You can’t fool dis chile; I reasoned out de whole thing. Mr.
Shagbark tole me how dem critters chaw and stomp and bite a
feller; I knowed dat if I brunged down dis one, it would make de
oder two so mad dey’d come at me afore I could load up ag’in, and
you wouldn’t hab any Jeth any more. So I luft; dem antelopes am
wery rewengeful—wery rewengeful—and I’se too smart to gib ’em
de chance dey wanted to lambast me.”
 CHAPTER XI
A DISAPPOINTMENT

N o argument could be held with such intelligence as this.

Shagbark, with a queer expression on his bearded countenance,
looked at the grinning Jethro, but did not speak. Possibly he felt that
he was blamable in the matter, for it had been his awful words that
caused the senseless panic of the colored youth, and made him flee
from before a harmless antelope, when the lad had a loaded rifle in
his hands and knew how to use it.
Alden was so amazed that at first he suspected his dusky friend
was jesting, but there could be no doubt of his earnestness. Jethro
was confident that he had saved his life by his own brightness.
“It’s too much for me,” commented Alden with a shake of his
head.
When all three were in their saddles, they rode out to where the
two carcasses lay at the foot of the slope. Shagbark compelled
Jethro to dismount and help sling the body of the buck across the
back of the pony and balance in front of the saddle. Since the animal
weighed nearly as much as the African himself, the veteran ordered
him to walk beside his horse and hold the burden in place until the
party reached camp. The female which had been shot was so much
lighter that Shagbark took it on the back of his powerful steed with
him. The burden was weighty, but the distance was not far, and all
moved at a moderate walk.
At the moment of starting, the sun was shining from a clear sky.
Ten minutes later the radiance turned a dull leaden hue, and all
three were wrapped in the swirl of a furious snow squall. The
millions of big flakes, eddied and spun around and so filled the air
that they could not see one another, when they were barely ten feet
apart. Shagbark called to the two to fall in line behind him and not
stop. They bent their heads and pushed on, leaving the direction to
the ponies.
Presto! the squall ended as quickly as it began. At the close of
fifteen minutes not a flake was in the air. The ground was covered
with a thin white sheet which speedily melted in the warm rays of
the sun. The radius of the curious flurry was so slight that it was
speedily left behind them.
Jethro led his pony alongside of Alden’s mare. The guide, as was
his custom when riding with the emigrant train, kept a brief way in
advance, looking straight ahead and paying no attention to the two
behind him.
“Say, Al, what’s de matter wid Mr. Shagbark?” asked Jethro,
lowering his voice.
“Nothing; why do you ask?”
“What’s he gwine back to de ridge fur? Does he wanter shoot
some more antelopes?”
It seemed to Alden that the hunter had turned from the direct
course, but the youth knew he had good reason for doing so.
“If you will look to the right you will see that he isn’t riding toward
the ridge.”
“Don’t make no difference; we’ll neber git home if we trabel the
way he’s gwine now.”
“If you think best, you might point out his mistake to him.”
“Gorrynation! he’s too touchy for me to put in my oar; you am de
one to set him right.”
“I must first know that he is wrong; wait until then.”
Accordingly Jethro held his peace, though he often muttered to
himself. He was silent, however, when the circle of Conestogas, with
the men, women and children moving outside and among them
came in sight. Shagbark had kept to a bee line from the last starting
point to the emigrant camp.
The forenoon was not half gone, but Shagbark decided that the
party should rest until after the midday meal. As has been explained,
there was no need of haste, and the occasional halts did the oxen
and horses good. They could crop the grass at their leisure, and
though capable of long continued strain, the cessation was none the
less grateful to the patient, plodding animals.
Shagbark dressed and roasted the two carcasses. No chef could
have done the work better. The odor of the broiling meat whetted
every appetite and the meal was one of the most satisfying of which
they had partaken since crossing the Missouri. Enough “fragments”
remained to serve quite well for a lighter feast, and they were
carefully laid aside for that purpose. It was about two o’clock when
the yokes were adjusted to the necks of the oxen, the horsemen
swung into their saddles, and the cavalcade headed for Fort
Laramie, on the other side of the mountain spur which bears the
latter half of that name.
From the saddle, Alden Payne scrutinized the country to the north,
the west and the south. He was searching for the company with
which his enemy Ross Brandley was traveling. His one regret was
that the antelope hunt had lessened the probability of meeting that
combative young man. Like many a mistaken youth, Alden was sure
he could not be happy until he had evened up matters between
them.
“He nearly knocked me over in the first place,” reflected the youth
for the hundredth time, “and when I protested, he insulted me, put
up his fists, and got in a blow. What roils me,” added Alden to
himself, with a flash of the eye and a compression of the lips, “is
that he must have taken my politeness last night for fear of him. If I
had only known who he was, I should have said something that
would have made his cheeks tingle. It will be strange if we miss
each other, for we are both anxious to meet, and, after all, there
can’t be so very many miles between us.”
 Far ahead towered the Laramie range, the peaks, softened by the
intervening miles, gradually taking on a clearer view, as the
separating distance was lessened. To the northward country was
undulating or level, mostly covered with the billowy, succulent lush
grass, which makes the region one of the finest grazing grounds in
the world.
Halting Firebug, so that his gait should not interfere with his sight,
the young man studied the outlook in that direction. He was thus
employed when Shagbark drew rein beside him.
“Wal, younker, what do ye make of it?”
“It seems to me,” replied Alden, lowering the binocular, “that I can
see a faint, bluish shadowy outline of something in the horizon. Is it
a mountain range?”
“That’s what it is,” said Shagbark; “ye’re looking at the Medicine
Bow Mountains, which lay a good many miles south; afore long
they’ll fade out of yer sight; see anything else?”
Alden raised the glasses again and studied the section.
“I see the white tents of an emigrant train well to the southwest
and several miles behind them, other wagons, both slowly pushing
westward.”
“Ye’re right; I wonder how many hundred of ’em there is atween
St. Joe and Sacramento?”
“It isn’t possible, Shagbark, that either of those trains is the one to
which Mr. Chadwick belongs?”
The veteran guffawed.
“Ef it war Jeth that asked that tom fool question I shouldn’t be
’sprised, but I didn’t look for anything like it from yerself, younker.
How could the company ye’re speaking off, which war a purty long
way to the northwest swing round into that part of the world,
’specially when there ain’t any reason for them doing so?”
 “It wasn’t a sensible question, Shagbark, but it was caused by my
wish to meet that chap who visited us with his uncle last night.”
The hunter looked curiously at his young friend, but said nothing.
The simple minded fellow was not without a natural share of
curiosity, but he asked no question. What may be called a rude
delicacy restrained him. If Alden chose to tell him more, he would
listen, but it rested with the young man himself.
The latter was on the point of describing that affray on the streets
of St. Joe, but a curious feeling of shame restrained him. He was not
sure how the veteran would view it. He might discourage the
resolution of Alden, though the probabilities were the other way.
“He can’t dissuade me, but I don’t want him to try. If I let him
know I am eager to meet that fellow again, he will do all he can to
help, without my saying anything further.”
The two resumed their riding in advance of the company, and
after a few minutes’ silence the guide, speaking with his briarwood
between his lips said:
“Thar’s one thing that may comfort ye, younker.”
“What’s that?”
“Most of the companies that’s tramping ’cross the plains do as we
done,—that is they don’t hurry, which ain’t never a good thing unless
thar’s no help fur it. Them folks that ye want to see will stop to rest
while we’re pushing on, jest as we done.”
“That being so,” said the pleased Alden; “we stand a fair chance of
coming up with them between here and Salt Lake?”
“Yas; long afore we get that fur.”
“I am glad to hear you say that.”
“And I’m mighty glad that ye are glad,” grimly commented
Shagbark, who proceeded to explain that the Laramie Range would
be crossed some fifty miles to the south of Fort Laramie. A
depression there made an easy passage through the rugged spur,
whose western slope would be followed northward to the military
post named. The same direction was to be held before turning
westward again. This was the route of the trains and Pony Express
riders, who followed the line of the least resistance as may be said.
By that time they would be well into the prodigious mountainous
region which would confront them for a thousand miles or more, for
it is the foothills of the Rockies. The present state of Colorado is
traversed by the main axis or continental divide of the Rocky
Mountains which there finds its greatest northern development. The
culminating crest of the main range is the Wind River Mountains in
the west-central part of the State, which is traversed by numerous
other ranges, including the Big Horn in the north-central section, the
Laramie Mountains already mentioned, the Medicine Bow in the
south; north of them the Sweetwater and Rattlesnake ranges, and in
the west the Teton, Shoshone and Gros Ventres mountains. The
extreme northeast is penetrated by the Black Hills from South
Dakota. The loftiest peak is Fremont’s in the Wind River Mountains,
two and a half miles high, with others of almost as great elevation.
The Wind River Mountains display that remarkable fact which is
probably familiar to our readers. Rain falling in a comparative brief
area divides so that some of the drops flow westward and find their
way into the Columbia and thence to the Pacific. Another part of the
rainfall or melted snow winds its way ultimately to the Colorado and
into the Gulf of California, while a third gropes to the Missouri and
finally into the Gulf of Mexico. The southeastern part of the State,
through which our friends were journeying, is drained by the North
Fork of the Platte and its affluents, including the Laramie and
Sweetwater rivers, the Lodge Pole, Rock, Poison Spring, Medicine
Bow, Horse and Rawhide creeks. It may be added that that grand
national playground known as the Yellowstone Park covers a wide
area in the northwestern corner of the State.
One of the most deceptive things is distance on the plains and
among the mountains. Alden Payne was certain of reaching the base
of the Laramie range before the company went into camp at
nightfall, but as the afternoon drew to a close, the wild region
seemed as far off as ever.
“If all goes well we shall strike ’em by to-morrow night,”
commented Shagbark; “howsumever ye have observed that another
company has camped two miles off on the same creek that we’re
going to use.”
“Is there any possibility of its being the one that Mr. Chadwick is
with?” asked Alden.
“Shouldn’t be ’sprised, but thar ain’t no way of telling without
making a call.”
“I think I shall ride over just before dusk and find out.”
“Nobody’ll object to that; will ye go alone?”
Alden hesitated. His first intention was to ask Shagbark to
accompany him, but the uncertainty of his sentiments caused the
youth to decide otherwise. He would take Jethro, for companionship,
rather than for any help he could give. Shagbark made no comment
on the decision, and it is not likely he cared one way or the other.
Sometime later, Alden dropped back to the main body, where he
turned over his pony to the care of Jethro, and entered the wagon in
which Mrs. Fleming and several of the women were riding. He
apologized for intruding, though he was ever welcome. He explained
that he wished to do some writing.
Seating himself with his back against the side of the Conestoga, as
it lumbered easily over the plain, Alden drew out his note book,
sharpened his lead pencil and framed the following:

“Ross Brandley, Sir,—I did not recognize you when

you called last night with Mr. Chadwick. Had I known
at the time who you were (my colored servant told me
afterward), you would have heard some plain words
from me, though coming as our guest, I should have
treated you with politeness which probably you would
 not have appreciated. Fearing that a similar restraint
may be upon you when I return the call, I hand you
this note.
“I ask you to ride after me as I return, until I reach
a point midway between our camps. I shall wait there
for you. We shall then be upon neutral ground and I
challenge you to a finish fight with fists as weapons.
This would have been the case in St. Joe had not your
relative, fearing you would suffer harm, carried you
away, though it was plain to me that he did not have
much trouble in getting you beyond my reach.
“Alden Payne.”

Alden read this belligerent message and smiled. He was pleased

with it.
“Those last words will hit him hard. A fellow would rather be called
anything than a coward. I can’t say he showed any sign of wishing
to sneak out, and when I remark that his uncle didn’t have any
trouble in lugging him off, I suppose I exaggerate, but I want to
make sure the scamp doesn’t find an excuse for dodging a square,
stand up fight. I don’t think I can improve the letter.”
He folded the paper and wrote the name of Brandley on the
outside, after which he placed the slip between the pages of his note
book which was shoved into the inner pocket of his coat. Without
consulting the women around him or letting them know what was in
the wind, he sprang out of the wagon to the ground.
A few minutes later the halt for the night was made. Alden told
Jethro he intended to visit the camp in front and wished him to go
along.
“I ’spose you’ll wait till after supper?” inquired the servant.
“Of course; I know how much it would hurt you to miss a meal.”
 “I’m allers ready to take keer ob you, Al,” remarked the servant in
an aggrieved voice.
What a fatality often attends small things! Jethro had no suspicion
that the company in advance was the one from which the two
visitors had come the night before. Alden did not aim to hide the
fact from him, but simply omitted to mention it. Had Jethro known
the meaning of this evening call, he would have forced his master to
hear the momentous secret which the dusky youth had been
carrying for weeks. And had that secret been revealed, Alden Payne
would have made a most important change in his programme.
Since it was not so to be, the two after the evening meal, cinched
their saddle girths and rode out on the plain. They took a course
almost due west. The camp fires of the other party twinkled like
stars in the horizon, and the space was covered in less than half an
hour, the horsemen riding at an easy gallop.
As he drew near, Alden was struck by the resemblance of the
camp to his own. The eight wagons were ranged in a similar circle
and the emigrants seemed to number nearly the same. They had
mules, however, in addition to oxen and horses. All were cropping
the grass, while a small stream of icy water flowed within their
convenient reach.
The guards had not yet been placed, though such a precaution
would not be long delayed, for it was unsupposable that any
company of emigrants should have penetrated thus far on their
journey to the Pacific without learning the lesson which Shagbark
had impressed upon his charges from the day they crossed the
Missouri.
Little or no notice was taken of the two horsemen until they rode
up to the nearest wagon. The animals were guided to one side
where the big camp fire threw out its rays, which were reflected
from the ponies and their riders.
“I’ll stay on Jilk and wait fur you to come back,” said Jethro; “I
doan’ think any ob dem folks keers ’bout seeing me.”
 Alden did not object, and had hardly swung out of the saddle to
the ground, when two men came forward to greet him. One was
unusually tall, the other of medium height and both wore heavy
beards. The youth scanned them closely, in the partial obscurity, but
neither was Mr. Chadwick. They cordially greeted the visitor and
invited him to go forward and join in their meal. Most of the group
were gathered around the “festal board,” which happened just then
to be their blankets spread on the green grass.
“I thank you,” replied Alden, “but my servant and myself partook
just before leaving our own camp. This is really a business rather
than a social call.”
“In what way can we serve you?”
“I have a letter which I shall be glad if you will hand to a member
of your party.”
Alden drew out his note book and took the folded paper from
between the pages.
“Perhaps it will be better if I give it to Mr. Chadwick and ask him to
hand it to his nephew Ross Brandley. I owe a call to Mr. Chadwick.”
The two men glanced in surprise at Alden. He of the shorter
statue was about to reach out his hand to take the missive but
refrained.
“I do not recognize the names you mention.”
“The elder is Garret Chadwick and his nephew, who I judge is
nearly my own age, is Ross Brandley. The note is for the younger.”
“Sorry, but I never heard of them before.”
“Then,” said the disappointed Alden, “they cannot be members of
your party.”
“They are not; we have never met either.”
“I beg your pardon for my mistake; you will excuse me for not
remaining. I thank you for your courtesy, and you and your friends
have my best wishes for a pleasant journey to the other side of the
continent.”
The trio exchanged military salutations, after the men had
repeated their invitation for the visitor to go forward and meet other
members of the company. Alden put his foot in the stirrup and
sprang into the saddle.
“Too bad,” he muttered, “but I shall meet that fellow before many
days.”
He was right in his surmise, but little did he dream of the
circumstances which were to attend that memorable meeting.
 CHAPTER XII
A NOT UNCOMMON INCIDENT

I t would be interesting to trace the progress of the emigrant train

westward for the following weeks, but, there would be a certain
monotony in the narration. The routine went on for days with little
variation. Making their way through the Laramie range, they went
northward along the western slope, over the course of the Laramie
River, after spending a night in camp near the old fort where they
were hospitably treated by the garrison. Where the Laramie River
rushes eastward through the mountain range, they turned in the
opposite direction toward the famous South Pass, that wide gateway
through the great Rocky Mountains. Beyond that they were to travel
southwest and past Fort Bridger to Salt Lake City.
It was the glad summer time, but the travelers suffered little from
the heat which is often unbearable in the deserts and valleys. Most
of the country is so elevated that the climate is delightful throughout
the warm months. Despite the season, however, they were caught in
more than one terrific snow storm while groping through the
foothills, and once a driving rain and sleet seemed to chill men and
animals to their bones. But for the big fires that were kindled and
kept vigorously going, Alden Payne believed some of them would
have perished.
“As fur dis chile,” chattered Jethro, with his thick blanket wrapped
about him to his ears; “I shan’t get warm fur sebenteen yeahs.”
“Ye must have patience,” remarked the grim Shagbark; “yer turn
will come after ye cross the Big Divide.”
The African failed to catch the point of this significant remark,
though it caused smiles on the part of the other listeners.
 Shots had been exchanged with prowling Indians fully a score of
times. It was extraordinary that although there were many narrow
escapes on the part of the white men, not one had been so much as
wounded. Shagbark was confident that he picked off one or two
dusky prowlers.
One afternoon he was riding alone in front of the train, which was
then making its laborious way through a series of foothills. He was in
one of his moods when he wished to have no companion,—not even
his favorite “younker,” Alden Payne. Suddenly from the cliffs on his
right rang the sharp report of a rifle. There could be no mistaking
the target, for the bowl of his briarwood pipe was shattered and sent
flying into space, leaving only a stump of the stem between his lips.
It may be doubted whether any incident in his stormy life had ever
thrown the guide into such a rage as this occurrence. He turned his
head like a flash and glared at the point from which the shot had
come. He detected the faint blue wreath curling upward from behind
a huge boulder and was off his horse in a twinkling. His friends saw
him dash up the cliff and pass from sight. They did not check the
train, but since they were following a well marked trail, were
confident he would soon return. When night closed in, however, and
they went into camp he was still absent.
The guards were placed with the usual care and every man was
on the alert. It was about midnight, when Fleming the leader heard
a soft whistle from somewhere among the rocks which towered on
their left. He recognized the signal and answered. The next minute
Shagbark emerged from the gloom, made a few inquiries and waited
until the change of the watchers took place. Then he lay down in his
blanket and slept until daylight. He had not said a word about what
had taken place while he was away, nor did he refer to it afterward.
Alden Payne and his friends, however, noticed one peculiar fact: the
hunter brought back another pipe with him. It was very different in
structure from his former briarwood, being made of a species of clay
baked red, and had a long reed for the stem. This he shortened to
five or six inches and it served quite well as a substitute for the one
destroyed. Alden was tempted to question him as to the means by
which he procured it, but he had too much respect for the moods of
the man to ask him any questions.
The long journey through the wild mountainous regions was so
free from real danger that it gave some of the company an undue
sense of security. They advanced with much caution and were well
guarded day and night. They believed the red men as they peered
out from their hiding places were afraid to attack them. Beyond a
doubt this was largely true, but Shagbark warned his friends against
placing too much reliance on the fact. He reminded them that the
“varmints” were as patient in waiting their chance as a pack of
wolves on the track of a wounded buffalo or worn out deer.
Among all there was none fonder of hunting than Alden Payne and
his servant Jethro Mix. With the consent of the guide, they
sometimes went out with him, but oftener ventured afield without
his company. The colored youth proved his proficiency by bringing
down some animal, generally of a species that served as an addition
to the provision supply. In the course of these hunts, the youths
secured between them specimens of the coyote, puma, wild cat,
wolverine and in one instance a black bear.
Jethro in the last occurrence insisted that their prize was the
largest grizzly bear that ever infested the Rockies and the
mountainous neighborhood; but, since the specimen could not have
weighed more than two hundred pounds, the youth was forced to
admit his mistake.
“If ye run agin a grizzly,” said Shagbark, when the incident was
told him, “ye won’t have no doubt of it. Besides you hain’t reached
the region yet where ye’re likely to tumble over them little
playthings.”
Alden naturally was anxious to shoot a grizzly and hoped he would
do so long before reaching Salt Lake. Jethro’s ambition at times was
the same, but he was often in doubt. Shagbark told so many
appalling stories of that monarch of the western wilds, that the
negro thought it would be just as well in case they met a grizzly not
to pick a quarrel with him.
Now and then they caught glimpses of a Pony Express rider. Twice
these coursers of the plains passed so near the camp that they
exchanged greetings with the emigrants but neither did more than
rein his pony down to a walk. The minutes were too precious to
indulge in gossip, and after a few unimportant words they were off
again and thundered from sight.
On a certain delightful afternoon in summer, Alden and Jethro
were several miles from the train, engaged in one of the hunts of
which they had become very fond. They had left their friends two or
three hours before, and although they saw deer and a few buffaloes,
in no case could they get near enough for a shot.
“This is the worst luck we have had for over a week,” commented
the dissatisfied Alden.
“Dere’s no saying what we’ll git afore we goes back to camp,”
replied Jethro; “I has a sort ob feeling dat we’re gwine to run into a
flock ob grizzlies.”
“Suppose we do, what is your plan?”
“Jest load and fire as fast as we kin till we’ve tumbled ’em all ober
on dere heads, and den scoot fur camp.”
“I think you’ll do the scooting before you bring down a grizzly, but
Shagbark told us that we are not in a section where we are likely to
meet any of those animals.”
Being well convinced on this point, Jethro could afford to pose.
“It gibs me a big pain to larn dat, ’cause I’se been reckoning on
getting one ob de biggest of dem critters in de hull West.”
“It may be Shagbark is mistaken, in spite of what he told us!”
Jethro who was riding beside his master, looked in a scared way at
him.
 “You doan’ think dat kin be so!”
“He is an old hunter, but not too old to make a mistake now and
then. Sometimes too wild animals leave their habitats and wander
far afield.”
This high sounding sentence was framed purposely for the
mystification of Jethro, who repeated wonderingly:
“What am a habitat? Do you mean a rousing big grizzly?”
“The habitat of an animal is the region where he makes his home:
sometimes a wild beast takes it into his head to stray a good many
miles from where he has been brought up and educated. There
would be nothing wonderful in our meeting a grizzly bear this
minute.”
“Gorrynation! You doan’ say so!” exclaimed Jethro glancing on
each side and behind them.
“Won’t you be glad to bag one of the monsters?”
“O yas, I ’spose so, but Mr. Shagbark spoke about another kind ob
bear dat he said was almost as bad as de grizzly.”
“What is its name?”
“He called it a nutmeg or clove bear—I disremember which.”
Alden broke into laughter.
“You mean a cinnamon bear; yes I have heard they are ugly
customers to drive into a corner.”
“’Spose dey dribe you into a corner, eh?”
“That would be worse, but we have a gun apiece and know how
to use it.”
“Dat am so, but Mr. Shagbark said as how it sometimes took a
dozen shots to bring down one ob dem grizzlies.”
“That must be because the aim was poor. One bullet sent right will
drop an elephant.”