He knew something about lynch-law now. He had received an illustration of the manner in which frontiersmen sometimes dealt with offenders, and shivered as if he had the ague when he reflected that the same fate might have been his in a few hours more had not a way been opened for his escape.
“I’ll not stay in this country an hour longer,” thought Guy, speeding along the road as if he had been furnished with wings. “I had no idea that there were such men as these in the world. I wonder if that constable saw me when I came out? I thought he looked me squarely in the face, and if he did, he must have recognized me. If they will only keep him tied hard and fast until morning, I don’t think he will ever catch me again. Halloo! Great Scott!”
This exclamation was called forth by an unexpected sight which just then met his eyes. It was a camp-fire, and he did not see it until he was close upon it. Two covered wagons were drawn up in front of the fire, and beside one of them stood a stalwart fellow in his shirt-sleeves, who was looking ruefully at a broken axle-tree and scratching his head in deep perplexity. Discovering Guy as he came up, he greeted him with:
“Halloo! stranger. May be you’re a wagon-maker.”
“No, I am not,” replied the boy.
“Then I don’t suppose you could hold up one end of this rail for me while I fix this axle, could you?” asked the emigrant.
“Yes,” said Guy, “I can do that.”
After casting a long and anxious glance down the road he had just traveled to make sure that there was no one following him, Guy walked up to the wagon and held one end of the rail, as the man requested, making several suggestions as the work progressed, which the emigrant was prompt to adopt, and which led him to say when the repairs were all completed:
“Now, stranger, may be you would be willing to set up and take a bite with us. Supper’s ready.”
Guy was not only willing, but eager. The sense of security he had felt since his arrival in the emigrant’s camp, aided by the savory odor of the viands that were cooking over the coals, had put a sharp edge on his appetite, and he did full justice to the meal that was served up. While he was eating he had leisure to look about him and to examine into something that had attracted his notice when he first entered the camp. There were some words painted in large letters on one of the wagon covers, and after a little study, Guy made them out to be, “Sonora or Bust.”