“He is right,” said Lancaster, deeming it necessary that the statement should receive his endorsement before he could pass for genuine in such a promiscuous company.
Mr. Bonfield and Lancaster now went apart by themselves for a few moments, and talked together in low tones. They soon rejoined the others when the trapper announced that the arrangements were completed, and they were to accompany the party to their destination, which was Fort Mifflin, on the western side of the Coast Range, or Rocky Mountains, in the midst of a gold region. At the little town which encompassed this fort, were a dozen of their friends, who had been there a couple of years, and who had sent for them. They had a young lady, whose father was the principal man at Fort Mifflin, and who had sent for his daughter to join him, at the time the party crossed the plains.
The preliminaries being settled, the party rode back to the emigrant train, made the acquaintance of the others and the march was resumed. They had all breakfasted, and it was concluded to make no halt until they reached a small stream, which Lancaster hoped could be found by noon, when they could rest as long as they chose.
“What part of the States are you from?” inquired Fred Wainwright, of the gentleman who had been referred to by the leader as Mr. Templeton.
“Missouri,” was the reply.
“Ah! what part of it?”
“From the capital.”
The young hunter could not avoid an exclamation of surprise, uttered so naturally that the emigrant turned abruptly toward him.
“Are you from there?”
“I—ahem!—I know several persons from that part of the country—that is I used to know them, but it is a good while ago.”