"Duke! Hi! Step along!" he urged. And—"Not so fast, Jenny!" he cautioned. Duke pulled steadily, keeping the chains fairly tight; Jenny, her ears wobbling, but now and then laid back in protest at one thing or another, slothfully dragged her long legs. Together they easily twitched the lightly laden cart over the rutted road.
George and Virgie were waiting in front of the Stanton ranch, to see the gold-seekers pass. Mrs. Stanton waved from the ranch-house door, and Mr. Stanton from the potato field.
"Where are your guns?" demanded George, first crack, much as if he had expected to see them heavily armed on this peaceful trail down to Manhattan.
"Got a shot-gun in the cart," answered Terry.
"How'll you fight Injuns, then? Where are your mining tools—picks and spades and things?"
"Get 'em later."
"Coming, Virgie?" hailed Harry.
Her finger in her mouth, Virgie shook her head in its pink sunbonnet.
"I can't. My mother needs me."
"All right. Sorry. We need a cook. Duke! What are you stopping for? Gwan! Hump along, Jenny!" And to creak of top and jangle of fry-pan and tin plates and cups, and water bucket clashing with tar pot, the Pike's Peak Limited pressed on.