By and by the soft hoofbeats died out, ever on the same deliberate walk. The pony would have gone faster had his master permitted, and why he did not was altogether beyond the understanding of the mystified lad.
But the questions could not be answered by standing in the midst of the plain and guessing and staring. The soggy pouches about his shoulders would not allow Alden to forget his duty. Besides, the soaked leather with its contents was growing heavy, and the brisk gait he had maintained for the last half hour or more was telling on him. He was weary and would have been glad of a rest.
“They must have known long ago at the station that something has happened to Dick Lightfoot; I should think they would search for him. If that man on horseback had not carried a light and locked his lips, I could believe that was his business, but he is acting in a way I don’t understand.”
Venus held her proper place among the other brilliant orbs overhead, and the lusty youth swung off vigorously, determined to keep at it without further stop, provided nothing unusual checked him.
Surely that was another light which he caught a long way ahead. A second glance revealed that it was not of the nature of the last. The glow was unwavering. It must be the big camp fire of a wagon train. Though certain on this point, Alden would not have turned aside, but the camp lay almost directly in front and he would soon come to it.
He decided to stop long enough to learn how far away the station was. If he had gone astray and the distance was far, he would rest, for he needed it, but if the interval was not great he would press on.
His first supposition proved right. In less than half an hour, he came up to a circle of white-topped Conestogas, in the midst of which a huge fire was blazing. Although it was not late, the evening meal had been eaten, and most of the tired travelers had withdrawn into the wagons and were asleep. Sentinels of course were placed, and Alden was challenged as he came out of the darkness. His response was satisfactory, and he walked between two of the lumbering vehicles to the cheerful blaze, around which half a dozen men were seated on the ground, smoking and talking together.
All looked up as he came forward and bade them good evening. His appearance was interesting, for he was on foot, carried no rifle, but had a couple of mail pouches slung over his shoulders. He flung them to the ground with a sigh of relief, looked around and laughed as he exclaimed:
“I’m glad to get rid of them for awhile.”
A tall, bearded man rose to his feet and walked toward him. He asked in surprise: