"Mark, I owe ye something for saving my money," went on Dixon.
"I don't want anything," was the prompt answer.
"The boys got together after the rail-ridin' an' duckin' was over," went on Maybe Dixon. "They made up a purse. Here it is—and you've got to take it."
Dixon handed over the "purse," which proved to be a red bandana handkerchief. Inside was a card on which were written the names of sixteen men who had contributed to the fund. With the card was sixty dollars, in bills and silver.
"You've got to keep it," said the man "from everywhere." "If ye don't the boys will be mad."
"All right, I'll keep it, then," said Mark. "I am very much obliged and I'll tell them so, when I meet them." And he kept his word. The sixty dollars came in very handy, for funds all around were running low again.
Sunday was spent at Fort Laramie, and bright and early Monday morning they took again to the trail, which now led across some broad stretches of prairie lands, dotted here and there with clumps of trees and bushes. Soon they were along the Platte once again, and then they left the immediate vicinity of the river and took to the dry bed of a stream which had once been a good-sized body of water. By Wednesday they were again ascending a ridge.
"We'll be getting to the foothills soon," said Mark. "Then is when the real climbing will begin."
"Not to say anything about when we reach the real mountains," put in Bob. "They say some of the spots are fearful."
"The question is, are we going through this fall or are we going to wait until next spring?" came from Si. "We've got to do one thing or tudder."