The Emigrant Trail | Page 5

can, and this gentleman," indicating Leff,
"says you want to go, too."
"We'll start to-morrow morning, if it's clear."
"Now, father," giving the arm she held a renewed clutch and sharper
shake, "there's our chance. We must go with them."
The father's smile would have shown something of deprecation, or even
apology, if it had not been all pride and tenderness.
"These young men will be very kind if they permit us to join them,"
was what his lips said. His eyes added: "This is a spoiled child, but
even so, there is no other like her in the world."
The young men sprang at the suggestion. The spring was internal, of
the spirit, for they were too overwhelmed by the imminent presence of
beauty to show a spark of spontaneity on the outside. They muttered
their agreement, kicked the ground, and avoided the eyes of Miss
Gillespie.
"The people at the hotel," the doctor went on, "advised us to join one of
the ox trains. But it seemed such a slow mode of progress. They don't
make much more than fifteen to twenty miles a day."
"And then," said the girl, "there might be people we didn't like in the
train and we'd be with them all the time."

It is not probable that she intended to suggest to her listeners that she
could stand them as traveling companions. Whether she did or not they
scented the compliment, looked stupid, and hung their heads, silent in
the intoxication of this first subtle whiff of incense. Even Leff, uncouth
and unlettered, extracted all that was possible from the words, and felt a
delicate elation at the thought that so fine a creature could endure his
society.
"We expect to go a great deal faster than the long trains," she continued.
"We have no oxen, only six mules and two extra horses and a cow."
Her father laughed outright.
"Don't let my daughter frighten you. We've really got a very small
amount of baggage. Our little caravan has been made up on the advice
of Dr. Marcus Whitman, an old friend of mine. Five years ago when he
was in Washington he gave me a list of what was needed for the
journey across the plains. I suppose he's the best authority on that
subject. We all know how successfully the Oregon emigration was
carried through."
David was glad to show he knew something of that. A boy friend of his
had gone to Oregon with this, the first large body of emigrants that had
ventured on the great enterprise. Whitman was to him a national hero,
his ride in the dead of winter from the far Northwest to Washington, as
patriotically inspiring as Paul Revere's.
There was more talk, standing round the fire, while the agreements for
the start were being made. No one thought the arrangement hasty, for it
was a place and time of quick decisions. Men starting on the emigrant
trail were not for wasting time on preliminaries. Friendships sprang up
like the grass and were mown down like it. Standing on the edge of the
unknown was not the propitious moment for caution and hesitation.
Only the bold dared it and the bold took each other without question,
reading what was on the surface, not bothering about what might be
hidden.
It was agreed, the weather being fair, that they would start at seven the

next morning, Dr. Gillespie's party joining David's at the camp. With
their mules and horses they should make good time and within a month
overhaul the train that had left the Gillespies behind.
As the doctor and his daughter walked away the shyness of the young
men returned upon them in a heavy backwash. They were so whelmed
by it that they did not even speak to one another. But both glanced with
cautious stealth at the receding backs, the doctor in front, his daughter
walking daintily on the edge of grass by the roadside, holding her skirts
away from the wet weeds.
When she was out of sight Leff said with an embarrassed laugh:
"Well, we got some one to go along with us now."
David did not laugh. He pondered frowningly. He was the elder by two
years and he felt his responsibilities.
"They'll do all right. With two more men we'll make a strong enough
train."
Leff was cook that night, and he set the coffee on and began cutting the
bacon. Occupied in this congenial work, the joints of his tongue were
loosened, and as the skillet gave forth grease and odors, he gave forth
bits of information gleaned from the earlier part of the interview:
"I guess they got a first rate outfit. The old gentleman said they'd been
getting it together since last autumn. They must be