“Poor Joe; he and I trapped together for three years on the upper forks of the Platte, and a braver or better fellow never lived. He knowed every mile of ground between the Mississippi—that is if you follow the route travelers generally take.”
“And that reminds me that we were told that we should find Mr. Ward Lancaster, and George Harling at this place, and that they would act as our guide into Lower California. I presume you are the gentlemen?”
“Well, yas,” replied Lancaster with a huge grin, “I s’pose we be: that is I’m Ward Lancaster without the Mr.”
Mr. Bonfield laughed; for he evidently understood what it all meant. The emigrant be it remembered had halted, and the leader and several of the men had advanced a hundred yards or so, and were consulting with the hunters. The rest of the emigrants were busy attending to their animals, or to themselves and their private affairs.
“Can we engage you as guides?” asked the leader, unable to conceal his eagerness.
“I rather think so, as we come out here for that thing.”
“There’ll be no difficulty about the compensation; for we need a guide badly enough. Most of my party had concluded to halt here and wait until we could procure one; and, although I opposed this conclusion, I should have disliked very much to have penetrated further into this country, which is entirely unknown to every one of us.”
“It wouldn’t have done,” said Wainwright. “You would have lost your way among the mountains and every one of you would have been picked off by the Indians before a week had passed over your heads.”
“So I thought; or else taken prisoners.”
“Those Indians in these parts, ain’t apt to take prisoners, unless they are in the form of valuable animals, or fair women.”