Then two of the voices came nearer, with the dull beating of hoofs in the dust.
“Rout out the boy and ask him,” said a half-suppressed, impatient voice, which Clarence at once recognized as the man Harry's.
“Hold on till Peyton comes up,” said the second voice, in a low tone; “leave it to him.”
“Better find out what they were like, at once,” grumbled Harry.
“Wait, stand back,” said Peyton's voice, joining the others; “I'LL ask him.”
Clarence looked wonderingly at the door. It opened on Mr. Peyton, dusty and dismounted, with a strange, abstracted look in his face.
“How many wagons are in your train, Clarence?”
“Three, sir.”
“Any marks on them?”
“Yes, sir,” said Clarence, eagerly: “'Off to California' and 'Root, Hog, or Die.'”