"Man, man," exclaimed stout-hearted Molly Wingate, "what for kind of a country have you brought us women to? One more thing like that and my nerve's gone. Tell me, is this the last bad river? And when will we get to Oregon?"
"Don't be a-skeered, ma'am," rejoined Bridger. "A accident kin happen anywheres. Hit's a month on ter Oregon, whar ye're headed. Some fords on ahead, yes; we got ter cross back ter the south side the Snake again."
"But you'll go on with us, won't you?" demanded young Molly Wingate.
They had halted to breathe the cattle at the foot of lava dust slope. Bridger looked at the young girl for a time in silence.
"I'm off my country, Miss Molly," said he. "Beyant the second ford, at Fort Boise, I ain't never been. I done aimed ter turn back here an' git back home afore the winter come. Ain't I did enough fer ye?"
But he hesitated. There was a kindly light on the worn old face, in the sunken blue eye.
"Ye want me ter go on, Miss Molly?"
"If you could it would be a comfort to me, a protection to us all."
[pg 347]