"Good enough, we'll soon be over 'em," answered the former sailor boy, softly. "Ain't that so, Darling?" he added, to the mule. The animal laid back his ears, blinked one eye, and gave a gentle heehaw for an answer.
They spent the rest of the day on the ridge and early the next day started on the direct trail for Fort Laramie. The trail was now crowded and they had plenty of company. Many of the folks along the trail called them the Boy Triplets, because they were always seen together. Strangers were astonished when they learned that the boys had not known each other previous to starting on the trip.
"You certainly pull well together," said one pioneer, as he journeyed along with them for several miles. "No quarrelin' or nothin', eh?"
"None so far," answered Mark.
"Must all have good natures. I had a partner, but we didn't hitch a week. When I wanted to do one thing he always wanted to do something else."
"We know just what we want to do and we are going to do it," put in Bob. "We haven't got time to quarrel."
At last they reached Fort Laramie, called by some of the pioneers and trappers Fort John. It was a quadrangular building, built of rough bricks. The walls had watch towers and were defended by several brass cannon. It was located where the Laramie River flowed into the Platte, six hundred and seventy-two miles from Independence.
"We've done some traveling since we started," said Mark, when he heard the distance mentioned.
"That leaves us a little over fifteen hundred miles still to cover," said Si. "Boys, we are getting there."
"The worst of it is," put in Bob, "nearly all of the rest of the journey is uphill—that is, till we get over the top of the Rockies. It is going to be a long, hard pull, if I know anything about it."