“I am looking for the Captain Adams wagon train. Do you know where it is?”
She only pointed, finger of other hand in her mouth; but as she indicated this same camp I pressed on. Mr. Jenks himself came out to meet me.
“Hooray! Here you are. I knew you’d do it. That’s the ticket. Broke loose, have you?”
“Yes, sir. I accept your offer if it’s still open,” I said.
We shook hands.
“Wide open. Could have filled it a dozen times. Come in, come on in and sit. You fetched all your outfit?”
“What you see,” I confessed. “I told you my condition. They stripped me clean.”
He rubbed his beard.
“Wall, all you need is a blanket. Reckon I can rustle you that. You can pay for it out of your wages or turn it in at the end of the trip. Fust I’d better make you acquainted to the wagon boss. There he is, yonder.”
He conducted me on, along the groups and fires and 155 bedding outside the wagon circle, and halted where a heavy man, of face smooth-shaven except chin, sat upon a wagon-tongue whittling a stick.