One strange thing we have to record here is that Frank was no longer the leader.
Being a city boy, he knew more about the ways of the world than his country cousin, and Leon had leaned upon and looked to him for advice; but after they had cut loose from home and friends, and were surrounded by strangers, Frank began to grow frightened, and lost a good deal of his assurance. He gradually fell back into the second place, and Leon stepped to the front and assumed command of the expedition. He had more pluck and determination than his cousin, and now these qualities began to show themselves.
The boys stopped on the levee, and gazed about them with the greatest interest.
St. Joe did not look much like Eaton. It was a frontier town at the time of which we write, and everything was new and strange to the runaways.
Canvas-covered wagons, such as emigrants use, were constantly passing; bearded men, in red shirts and high-top boots, were lounging about, and now and then an Indian, wrapped up to the chin in his blanket, would walk by with dignified step.
"Well, here we are," said Leon at length, "and I must confess that things don't look just as I thought they would."
"No, they don't; and I wish to goodness that we were safe at home again," said Frank, giving utterance to the thought that had passed through his mind a score of times since he left Eaton. "I am afraid we can't make a success of it."
"It is too late to talk that way," said his cousin. "You know that we discussed the matter thoroughly before we started, and made up our minds that we could face anything that came in our way."
"But I didn't know that frontiersmen were such rough fellows. Just look at these men standing around. Their appearance is enough to frighten one."
"If you are so easily frightened, what will you do when we get out to the mountains?" asked Leon.