CHAPTER XXXVII -JIM BRIDGER FORGETS
"What's wrong with the people, Cale?" demanded Jesse Wingate of his stouthearted associate, Caleb Price. The sun was two hours high, but not all the breakfast fires were going. Men were moody, truculent, taciturn, as they went about their duties.
Caleb Price bit into his yellow beard as he gazed down the irregular lines of the encampment.
"Do you want me to tell you the truth, Jesse?"
"Why, yes!"
"Well, then, it seems to me the truth is that this train has lost focus."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I don't know that I'm right--don't know I can make my guess plain. Of course, every day we lay up, the whole train goes to pieces. The thing to do is to go a little way each day--get into the habit. You can't wear out a road as long as this one by spurts--it's steady does it.
"But I don't think that's all. The main trouble is one that I don't like to hint to you, especially since none of us can help it."