"White men or red we must have water to-night," he said, and drove on.
As they drew nearer they saw a low, squat outline against a small rise in the ground, and from it rose a stove-pipe, from which the smoke they had seen was coming.
"What is it?" called Joe. "Is it an Indian's hut?"
"No, thank God," cried Joshua Peniman fervently; "no Indians live there. It must be a dugout, and if it is white people are living in it."
He clucked to the horses and drove eagerly forward.
As they approached the low, dark object they saw that it had a roof, and that the sides were dug back in the rise of ground behind it. They could also see that it had two windows in front, and a door, which was thrown open as they drew nearer, and a tall, raw-boned red-haired woman with a good-natured freckled face stood framed in the opening.
"Wal of all things!" she ejaculated, "if it ain't a bunch o' emigrants! Hello, mister, where'd you come from?"
"From Ohio," called out Joshua Peniman, and made all possible haste toward the dugout.
As the wagon drew up before the door she looked at its occupants, then laughed aloud.
"Fer th' land sakes," she cried; "what be ye? Air ye niggers or Mexicans or Portuguese, or what?"