“That was a good speech, wasn’t it!” praised Randolph. “And he means what he says, too.”
“Guess you start right away,” said Henry; for Lieutenant Frémont had immediately mounted his horse, at the post gate, and was dashing for the camp, followed by the other men. So, hastily vaulting into their own saddles, with a whoop the three boys, abreast, raced after.
[VI]
INTO THE WILDER WEST
Oliver secretly was pleased to see that Kit Carson, scouring the plain like a centaur, soon overtook the lieutenant. No rider could beat Kit. However, neck and neck they galloped into the camp, and simultaneously checked their horses short.
“All right. En avant!” cried Frémont, his voice ringing keenly. And Kit Carson shouted to his own squad: “Ketch up, boys!”
The mules and carts were packed and waiting; now into their saddles clambered the men. Frémont and Carson and Maxwell and others proceeded to shake hands with Agent Boudeau; gay salutations of parting were exchanged.
“We’ll ride a little way with you, but we can’t go far, I suppose,” vouchsafed Henry, to Oliver.
“We’ll be here when you come back, though. You can tell us all about it,” proposed Randolph, hopefully. “You’ll see Independence Rock and Devil’s Gate and South Pass and Wind River Mountains and everything!”