hat long journey she was the
least travel-soiled of the whole party.

At my uncle's words she looked up questioningly and I saw the bloom
deepen on her cheek as she met the young man's eyes. Somebody else saw
that shadow of a blush--Bill Banney lying on the ground beside me, and
although he pulled his hat cautiously over his face, I thought he was
listening for the answer.

The young New-Englander stared long at the green prairie before he
spoke. I never knew whether it was ignorance, or a lack of energy, that
was responsible for his bad grammar in those early days, for Rex Krane
was no sham invalid. The lines on his young face told of suffering, and
the thin, bony hands showed bodily weakness. At length he turned to my
uncle.

"I started out sort of reckless on this trip," he said, slowly. "I'm
nearly twenty and never been worth a dang to anybody anywhere on God's
earth; so I thought I might as well be where things looked interestin'.
But"--he hesitated--"I'm gettin' a lot stronger every day, a whole lot
stronger. Mebby I'd be of some use afterwhile--I don't know, though. I
reckon I'd better wait till we get to that Council Grove place. Sounds
like a nice locality to rest and think in. Are you goin' on, anyhow,
Clarenden, crowd or no crowd?"

"Though the heavens fall," my uncle answered, simply.

Jondo had turned quickly to hear this reply and a great light leaped
into his deep-set blue eyes. I glanced over at Aunty Boone, sitting
apart from us, as she ever chose to do, her own eyes dull, as they
always were when she saw keenest; and I remembered how, back at Fort
Leavenworth, she had commented on this journey, saying: "They tote
together always, an' they're totin' now." Child though I was, I felt
that a something more than the cargo of goods was leading my uncle to
Santa Fe. What I did not understand was his motive for taking Beverly
and Mat and me with him. I had been satisfied before just to go, but now
I wanted very much to know why I was going.

Council Grove by the Neosho River was the end of civilization for the
freighter. Beyond it the wilderness spread its untamed lengths, and
excepting Bent's Fort far up the Arkansas River on the line of the first
old trail, rarely followed now, it held not a sign of civilization for
the traveler until he should reach the first outposts of the Mexican
almost in the shadow of Santa Fe. It is no wonder that wagon-trains
mobilized here, waiting for an increase in numbers