We were a cheerful trio next morning as we started out of camp on the home-stretch for "God's country," with Jack singing: "Ain't we glad to get out of the wilderness!"
I had brought my captured ponies along, thinking to use them for riding stock going in and to realize something on them after we reached Leavenworth, and for the first day tried them—Jack riding one and I the other—but they were in such poor condition that by the time we had reached Charley Rath's ranch, the first evening, I saw that they were not going to be able to stand the travel on grass alone—and I had been unable to teach them to eat grain—so I left them with Charley, with a note to Wild Bill requesting him to dispose of them to the best advantage for me, which he did, turning in the money to me a few weeks later in Leavenworth.
Our bales of peltries made a bulky but not heavy load, and our two mules and two broncos hauled it with ease, and, though we were all anxious now to reach the end of our journey, still we were under contract to deliver the team to Mr. Kitchen in Leavenworth in good condition and, therefore, must not overdrive.
Of course each one of us was now doing some lively planning for the future.
"Well, taking all things into consideration," remarked Jack, the first evening after we had got settled in camp, "though we're glad to get out of the wilderness for a while, we've done pretty well this winter. We've had lots of fun, some lively adventures, and we've made more money than we had any idea of when we started into the business."
"Yes," I replied, "we'll each have something over a thousand dollars in clear cash for our winter's work, when we divide up, and that's more money than I ever possessed before—how is it with you fellows?"
"Same here," said Jack.
"Me, too," said Tom.
"Well," I continued, "I suppose each one of you is studying out how he can quickest blow it in before re-enlisting?"
"I don't know about that," replied old Tom. "I expect to re-enlist after a bit, of course, for soldiering's the only trade I know and I haven't really much use for the money, but I'll not squander it foolishly. I've studied out a better use for it. I have a widowed sister with several children living on a little farm back in Pennsylvania, and they only make a poor, cornbread living off the place by close economy. I've made up my mind that the best use I can put this money to is to go back there and fix them up in good shape—and then I'm off to the war."