“On our way!” exclaimed Uncle Dick. They all swung into saddle now, Billy leading, old Sleepy next to Fox, the place he always claimed; then Uncle Dick, Jesse, John, and Rob, Nigger coming last, poking along behind, his ears lopping. In a few moments they all were shaken into place in the train, and all went on as usual, the gait being a walk, only once in a while an easy trot.
“We set out and proceeded on under a gentle breeze,” quoted John.
“Reader will suppose one hundred years to have elapsed,” began Jesse, trying to be funny.
“Jess,” said his uncle at that, “rather you’d not poke fun at the Journal, or at our trip. I want you to take it seriously and to feel it’s worth while.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Jesse, presently, who was rather feeling disgraced that morning. “I won’t, any more. I’m glad we’ve got horses.”
“Now I want you to remember that when Captain Clark and his three men came in here, on foot, they found an old Indian road, marked plain by the lodge poles. They went up Little Prickly Pear Creek, over the ridge and down the Big Pear Creek.
“You see, Clark was hunting Indians. He wanted horses; because he could see, even if the Indian girl had not told him, that before long they must run their river to its head, and then, if they couldn’t get horses, their expedition was over for keeps. They all were anxious now.
“Billy, all I have to say about the road is that we’ll make long days; and we’ll keep off the main motor roads all the way when we get toward Marysville and Helena, over east and south—no towns if we can help it. It’s going to be hard to dodge them.”