Warfield and Mr. Bonfield appeared to take a strong liking to each other, for they rode side by side, and chatted in the most pleasant and familiar manner. Little was seen of Florence Brandon. Occasionally she indulged in a few miles walk, but at other times she was in one of the large lumbering covered wagons with Mrs. Bonfield and a maiden aunt. Miss Jamison, whose loquacity equalled that of Leonidas Swipes, and whose bosom seemed incapable of any emotion except that of the importance of keeping her sharp eye and long nose turned toward her ward.
Messrs. Doolittle and Birchem rode side by side; and as neither was heard to utter a syllable to the other, there can be but little doubt but that they vastly enjoyed themselves.
Swipes was getting along handsomely. He appeared to have recovered his spirits entirely, and to have forgotten the brief time he enjoyed the bliss of expected wealth.
“I tell you Mr. Wainwright,” said he, as he rode beside him, shaking his head and gesticulating his long arms, “I’ve an idee.”
“Ah!”
“Yes; it come into my head as I was riding along. I tell you it is an idee that is an idee—bound to make my fortune.”
“As sure as the sheep would have done had they remained in your possession?”
“Y-es-s; but perhaps not quite so fast; but in a much better manner; in a manner that shall make my name famous along the Pacific coast.”
“It must be quite a grand scheme that has entered your head.”
“It is!” was the emphatic response. “One of those idees such as you don’t get more than once in a life time.”