journey. They were strong, willing to work, of cheerful minds, fine horsemen, and, as I have said, each knew how to use a rifle.
During the months of waiting, after the departure of Mr. Payne, wife and daughter, for the Pacific coast, our young friends had plenty of time in which to prepare for the undertaking. Of course, they saw to it that they had plenty of ammunition. Their rifles were muzzle-loaders, with percussion caps, but they used the conical bullet, and Alden had learned long before to shoot from the saddle with his horse on a run. Jethro Mix did well while standing, but he insisted that it was too “blamed bothersome” to hit anything when his horse was trotting or galloping.
The extra clothing and few necessary articles were placed in the wagon of Mr. Fleming, and, as was the custom, each vehicle carried quite a lot of provisions, though the owners counted on shooting a good deal of game on the way—an expectation that was not disappointed.
Among the men making up the company was only one in whom we feel special interest. He was a massive fellow, six feet in height, of vast frame and prodigious strength. His
