Thus matters stood on the afternoon of a bright day, when the company was slowly making its way westward along the Platte River. The oxen plodded on, easily dragging the heavy loads, for traveling was much better than it would be found farther on. The country was level, and every morning seemed to bring a deepening of color and an increase of verdure. So long as this lasted the animals would not have to forage or draw upon the moderate supply of hay and grain that had been brought from the States.
Few of the men kept their saddles throughout the day. It was too tiresome for horses and riders. The latter sometimes walked for hours, or climbed into the lumbering wagons and rode behind the oxen. The children, of whom there were more than a score of different ages, delighted to play hide and seek, chasing one another over the prairie and then tumbling into the rear of the vehicles, where their merry shouts were smothered by the canvas covers which hid them from sight.
Alden and Jethro had tramped for two hours and were again in the saddle, their horses on a walk. Alden was surprised when, as they gathered up the reins, his companion heaved a profound sigh. He did not speak, and a few minutes later repeated the inspiration. Glancing across, the perplexed youth asked:
“What’s the matter with you, Jeth?”
“I wish I could tell,” he answered, with a more prodigious intake than before.
“What’s to hinder you?” said the other, not a little amused.
“I’m carryin’ an orful secret.”
“Seems to weigh you down a good deal; do you wish to tell me?”
“Dat’s what I oughter do, but I hain’t got de courage, Al; it’s been on my mind two, free times, and I started in to let you know, but I’se afeard.”
“Afraid of what?”