Mr. Simpson and two or three companions led, keeping to the advance. The other riders were scattered in bunches back on either side of the train; the teamsters walked beside their wagons; and in the rear of the train ambled a large bunch of loose cattle and mules, driven by a herder.
Billy Cody and Dave rode together, well up toward the front.
“Did you ever freight any?” queried Billy. “What was that train you were with? Just emigrants?”
“Yes,” answered Davy. “We were going to Salt Lake.”
“Mormons?” demanded Billy, quickly.
“No. After we’d got to Salt Lake maybe we’d have gone on to California.”
“Expect I’ll go across to California sometime,” asserted Billy. “How old are you, Red?”
“Eleven.”
“I’m thirteen, but I’ve been drawing pay with a bull train three trips out and back. The first time I was herder from Fort Leavenworth out to Fort Kearney and back. Next time I was herder from Leavenworth for Salt Lake, but the Injuns turned us at Plum Creek just beyond Fort Kearney and we had to quit. I killed an Injun too dead to skin, but I was so scared I didn’t know what I was doing. Last summer I went out as extra hand with a big outfit for the soldiers at Salt Lake, but the Mormons held us up and took all our stuff, so we couldn’t help the army, and we had to spend the winter at Fort Bridger, and all of us nearly starved.”