“Just got in,” answered Mr. Baxter, shaking hands, as did Davy. “We came by mule and wagon with Billy Cody and two or three others.”
“How?”
“Up the Smoky.”
“Joined the gold rush, did you?”
“Yes, sir. But I’ve about decided I’d rather plant potatoes.”
“How about you, Dave?” queried Mr. Majors.
“I’d like to eat one,” asserted Davy ruefully.
“You’ve got the right idea, I guess,” approved Mr. Majors. “But I understand Horace Greeley has told the people here they ought to plant potatoes, and they laughed at him. Potatoes are a better crop than gold, in my opinion; but this country certainly doesn’t look very promising for them. How people are going to live I don’t know. It will be good for the freighting business, though. We’ll be hauling stuff in here with every team we can muster. Did you know we’ve taken over the stage line, too?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, we have. It’s run by Russell, Majors & Waddell now. Call in on me before I leave, and I’ll give you a pass to Leavenworth in case you want to go back.”