Once more the train faced the desert. Page [115].
A FRONTIER DUEL
EMERSON HOUGH
1848
From “The Covered Wagon.” Reprinted by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton and Company, New York.[12]
Once more the train, now permanently divided into two, faced the desert, all the men and many women now afoot, the kine low-headed, stepping gingerly in their new rawhide shoes. Gray, grim work, toiling over the dust and sand. But at the head wagon, taking over an empire foot by foot, flew the great flag. Half fanatics? That may be. Fanatics, so called, also had prayed and sung and taught their children, all the way across to the Great Salt Lake. They, too, carried books. And within one hour after their halt near the Salt Lake they began to plow, began to build, began to work, began to grow, and made a country.
The men at the trading post saw the Missouri wagons pull out ahead. Two hours later the Wingate train followed, as the lot had determined. Woodhull remained with his friends in the Wingate group, regarded now with an increasing indifference, but biding his time.
Bridger held back his old friend Jackson even after the last train pulled out. It was midafternoon when the start was made.
“Don’t go just yet, Bill,” said he. “Ride on an’ overtake ’em. Nothin’ but rattlers an’ jack-rabbits now fer a while. The Shoshones won’t hurt ’em none. I’m powerful lonesome, somehow. Let’s you an’ me have one more drink.”