hen, for his ankle was swelling badly.

In the morning, Colonel Splawn gave the army a good breakfast, and it
moved on. Lieutenant Clemens, however, did not get farther than Farmer
Nuck Matson's. He was in a high fever by that time from his injured
ankle, and Mrs. Matson put him to bed. So the army left him, and
presently disbanded. Some enlisted in the regular service, North or
South, according to preference. Properly officered and disciplined, that
"Tom Sawyer" band would have made as good soldiers as any.

Lieutenant Clemens did not enlist again. When he was able to walk, he
went to visit Orion in Keokuk. Orion was a Union Abolitionist, but there
would be no unpleasantness on that account. Samuel Clemens was beginning
to have leanings in that direction himself.

[5] In an earlier day, barrel hoops were made of small hickory trees,
split and shaved. The hoop-pole was a very familiar article of commerce,
and of household defense.

XIX.

THE PIONEER

He arrived in Keokuk at what seemed a lucky moment. Through Edward
Bates, a member of Lincoln's Cabinet, Orion Clemens had received an
appointment as territorial secretary of Nevada, and only needed the money
to carry him to the seat of his office at Carson City. Out of his
pilot's salary his brother had saved more than enough for the journey,
and was willing to pay both their fares and go along as private secretary
to Orion, whose position promised something in the way of adventure and a
possible opportunity for making a fortune.

The brothers went at once to St. Louis for final leave-taking, and there
took boat for "St. Jo," Missouri, terminus of the great Overland Stage
Route. They paid one hundred and fifty dollars each for their passage,
and about the end of July, 1861, set out on that long, delightful trip,
behind sixteen galloping horses, never stopping except for meals or to
change teams, heading steadily into the sunset over the billowy plains
and snow-clad Rockies, covering the seventeen hundred miles between St.
Jo and Carson City in nineteen glorious days.

But one must read Mark Twain's "Roughing It" for the story of that
long-ago trip--the joy and wonder of it, and the inspiration. "Even at
this day," he writes, "it thrills me through and through to think of the
life, the gladness, and the wild sense of freedom that used to make the
blood dance in my face on those fine overland mornings."

It was a hot dusty, August day when they arrived, dusty