He gazed at the trapper a moment, and seating himself on the opposite end of the steps, looked down at the ground in a brown study. The question propounded to him excited a serious train of reflections in his mind. He had always spoken and thought of “the mountains” without having any very definite idea concerning them. He had imagined that when he was once safe across the plains his troubles would all be over, and that it would be a matter of no difficulty to find the home and friends of which he was in search if they were still in existence; but the trapper’s last words had opened his eyes and showed him the real magnitude of his undertaking. “Whereabouts in the mountains?”
This was a question that Julian could not answer. He remembered now to have read somewhere that the Rocky Mountains covered an area of 980,000 square miles. How could he hope to find his father in such a wilderness as that? He might be in Mexico, or he might be in Oregon—Julian didn’t know. After all he had endured and accomplished, the obstacles that lay in his path were but just beginning to make themselves manifest. This reflection for the moment utterly unnerved him, and tears began to fall from his eyes. The trapper removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to say:
“Cryin’?”
“I know it is unmanly,” replied Julian, “but I can’t help it. I have been through some difficulties lately, but I can see that there are worse ones before me. But I’ll never give up—never!”
“Stick to that allers,” said the trapper, now beginning to show some interest in what the boy had to say. “Never-give-up has carried many a feller through the wust kind of scrapes. Got any friends out West?”
“Yes, sir—or, rather, I had a few years ago; but I don’t know where to find them. Did you ever hear of Major Mortimer?”
“I b’lieve I’ve heerd his name spoke.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“I can’t jest say I do exactly. Thar’s only two or three men who can tell whar he is now, but I know whar he used to live.”