Tom consented to ride a part of the time. But it was ten o’clock, so bad were the roads, before they reached the frontier village, and secured an humble lodging for the night.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE PACIFIC TRAIL.
TOM AND his new acquaintance spent a day at the little settlement where they passed the night. Tom was fortunate enough to buy a horse for forty-two dollars, and he also provided himself with a rifle and a few things which Mr. Brush told him were necessary for the long trip they had in view.
Whenever he thought of the change he had made in companions he congratulated himself. He had found no pleasure in Burnett’s society, even before he had found out his treachery. The salary he was to receive was his only inducement. Now he had relinquished all salary, and must defray his entire expenses without help, but he felt assured that, should he become penniless, his honest friend Brush would not desert him. So, with a bold heart he set out upon his long journey.
I do not propose to give a daily record of the journeyings of the two companions, as they followed the Pacific Trail. The journey was monotonous enough. So many miles daily, the number varying according to the state of the road, if such a name can be given to the path they were following, camping for the night and resuming travel the next day.
It was so monotonous that they almost forgot the days of the week.
Let us look in upon the pair four weeks later. During that time they had made about five hundred miles.
“Tom,” said Peter Brush, as they rode side by side over a broad, rolling prairie, “this is lonely, isn’t it? For all we can see we are the only people living in the world. There isn’t a house, nor a clearing, nor the smoke of a chimney, anywhere in sight.”