It was only with an effort, I could restrain myself from giving him a hint of his proximate bliss. I was sustained in the effort, however, by observing the manner in which he approached me. Evidently he had some communication to make that concerned our future movements? Up to that moment, there had been no time to talk—even to think of the future.
“I’ve got somethin’ to say to you, capt’n,” said he, drawing near, and speaking in a serious tone; “it’s better, may be, ye shed know it afore we go furrer. The girl’s been givin’ me some partickalers o’ the caravan that I hain’t told you.”
“What girl?”
“The Chicasaw—Su-wa-nee.”
“Oh—true. What says she? Some pleasant news I may anticipate, since she has been the bearer of them?” It was not any lightness of heart that caused me to give an ironical form to the interrogative. Far from that.
“Well, capt’n,” replied my comrade, “it is rayther ugly news the red-skinned devil’s told me; but I don’ know how much truth thar’s in it; for I’ve foun’ her out in more ’n one lie about this bizness. She’s been wi’ the carryvan, however, an’ shed know all about it.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Well—Su-wa-nee says that the carryvan’s broke up into two.”
“Ha!”
“One helf o’ it, wi’ the dragoons, hes turned south, torst Santa Fé; the other, which air all Mormons, hev struck off northardly, by a different pass, an’ on a trail thet makes for thar new settlements on Salt Lake.”