Tom swiftly named three men and told where they could be found, his companion nodding sharply at the mention of two of them.
"Good!" exclaimed the trader. "Throw your packs into my wagons an' I'll see to stowin' 'em."
"No," replied Tom. "That's got to be done when th' camp's asleep. I'm supposed to be takin' 'em with me.
"But these Mexicans'll trail you, an' get you when you're asleep," objected Uncle Joe.
Tom laughed and shook his head, and turned to face Woodson, who was walking toward them. "Th' captain an' I am goin' huntin'. See you later."
"Git yer hoss, Boyd," called the captain. "I'm goin' fer mine now. How air ye, Mr. Cooper?"
"Never felt better in my life, captain. We all owe you a vote of thanks, an' I'll see that you get it."
"Thar ain't a man livin' as kin git a vote o' thanks fer me out o' this caravan," laughed Woodson, his eyes twinkling. "But I ain't got no call ter kick: I ain't had nigh th' trouble I figgered on. Jest th' same, I'll be glad when we meet up with th' greaser troops at Cold Spring. I aim to leave ye thar an' go on ahead an' fix things in th' city."
Uncle Joe caught himself in time. "That's where we bust up?"
Woodson nodded. "Thar ain't no organization from thar in. Don't need it, with th' sojers. All us proprietors that ain't got reg'lar connections in th' city will be leavin' from Cold Spring on."