"Only for a few days."
"I was once in America."
"When?"
"In 1839. I was at Boston in March of that year."
Morton shook his head. "I remember that time perfectly. I was in New Orleans in March, and afterwards in Texas."
"From Boston I went westward—up the Missouri and out upon the prairies."
Morton paused a moment in doubt; then sprang to his feet with a joyful exclamation,—
"The prairies! Have you forgotten the Big Horn Branch of the Yellow Stone, and the camp under the old cottonwood trees!"
Wentworth leaped up, and grasped both his guest's hands.
"Forgotten! No; I shall never forget the morning when you came over to us with that tall, half-breed fellow, in a Canadian capote."