with it. It was not without a large measure of vexation that
we learnt how far it had got the start of us.

I should have submitted with less resignation to the necessary delays,
but that my mind had been to some extent tranquillised by the contents
of Lilian's letter. They had inclined me to the belief that the
emigrants were simply _en route_ for California--as was all the world
just then--and that the Mormon was, after all, not so strong in his new
faith as to resist the universal golden lure. His design in taking the
squatter with him might be merely of a secular character--having for its
object the securing of a partner, in whose brawny arms the wash-pan and
rocker might be handled to advantage. That they whom we sought were
gone with the caravan, we were soon satisfied. Holt was too marked a
man to have escaped observation, even in a crowd of rough squatters like
himself; but more than one eye had rested upon his fair daughter that
longed to look upon her again. _Her_ traces were easily told--as
testified by the answers to my shy inquiries. Like some bright meteor,
whose tract across the heavens remains marked by its line of luminous
phosphorescence, her radiant beauty was remembered. I needed not to
inquire of her. Scarcely a coterie of which she was not the subject of
conversation--to my infinite jealousy and chagrin. Not that aught was
said of her, that should have given rise to such feelings: they were but
the offspring of love's selfishness.

Not long had I to submit to such torture. Our stay in Van Buren was of
the shortest. In less than twenty hours after our arrival in the
village, we took our departure from it--turning our faces towards the
almost limitless wilderness of the west. I had endeavoured to add to
our company but without success. The caravan had cleared Van Buren of
its unemployed population; and not an idler remained--at least not one
who felt inclined to adventure with us. Even the needy "loafer" could
not be induced to try the trip--deeming ours too dangerous an
expedition. To say the least, it was reckless enough; but impelled by
motives far more powerful than the thirst of gold, my comrade and I
entered upon our journey with scarce a thought about its perils. The
only addition to our company was a brace of stout pack-mules, that
carried our provisions and other _impedimenta_; while the old horse of
the hunter had been replaced by a more promising roadster.

It would be