"Five thousand Mormons, he'll gone by h'aready. H'womans pullin' the han'cart, sacre Enfant! News--you'll h'ought to know the news. You'll been h'on the settlement six mont'!"
"Hit seemed six year. The hull white nation's movin'. So. That all?"
"Well, go h'ask Keet. He's come h'up South Fork yesterdays. Maybe-so quelq' cho' des nouvelles h'out West. I dunno, me."
"Kit--Kit Carson, you mean? What's Kit doing here?"
"Oui. I dunno, me."
He nodded to a door. Bridger pushed past him. In an inner room a party of border men were playing cards at a table. Among these was a slight, sandy-haired man of middle age and mild, blue eye. It was indeed Carson, the redoubtable scout and guide, a better man even than Bridger in the work of the wilderness.
"How are you, Jim?" he said quietly, reaching up a hand as he sat. "Haven't seen you for five years. What are you doing here?"
He rose now and put down his cards. The game broke up. Others gathered around Bridger and greeted him. It was some time before the two mountain men got apart from the others.
[pg 191]