[CHAPTER VI]
THE ROAD TO TOTAL WRECK
“How’s my pony?” said Young Van. “You haven’t told me.”
“I shot him.”
“Not yours too? Didn’t I see you riding Texas this morning? I—I’m a little hazy about what I have and haven’t seen these days.”
“Yes; Texas pulled through. He’s hitched on just behind us.”
The wagon train, with every barrel full, was drawing slowly toward Mr. Carhart’s camp. Young Van and Carhart were riding on the leading wagon, and the former was gazing off dejectedly to the horizon, where he could see a few moving black specks and the gray-yellow line of the grade. “I don’t know what you’ll think of me, Mr. Carhart,” he said, after a time. “I don’t seem to be good for much when it comes to real work.”
“Better forget about it, Gus,” the chief replied. “I’m going to. This isn’t railroad building.”
The long line of wagons wound into camp, and Carhart made it his first business to get his assistant undressed and comfortably settled on his cot. It would be a day or so before the young man would be able to resume his work. Then Carhart stepped out, walked part way down the knoll, and looked about him, and became conscious of an unusual stir about the job. Peering out through dusty spectacles, he saw that a party of strangers were coming up the slope toward him.