ream of the Fork, crossed over to Younkins's early in
the morning, while the sky was red with the dawning, carrying their
light baggage with them. They had ferried their trunks across the day
before, using the oxcart for the purpose and loading all into
Younkins's team, ready for the homeward journey.

Now that the bustle of departure had come, it did not seem so hard to
leave the new home on the Republican as they had expected. It had been
agreed that the two men should follow in a week, in time to take the
last steamboat going down the river in the fall, from Fort Benton,
before the closing of navigation for the season. Mr. Bryant, unknown
to the boys, had written home to Dixon directing that money be sent in
a letter addressed to Charlie, in care of a well-known firm in
Leavenworth. They would find it there on their arrival, and that would
enable them to pay their way down the river to St. Louis and thence
home by the railroad.

"But suppose the money shouldn't turn up?" asked Charlie, when told of
the money awaiting them. He was accustomed to look on the dark side of
things, sometimes, so the rest of them thought. "What then?"

"Well, I guess you will have to walk home," said his uncle, with a
smile. "But don't worry about that. At the worst, you can work your
passage to St. Louis, and there you will find your uncle, Oscar G.
Bryant, of the firm of Bryant, Wilder & Co. I'll give you his address,
and he will see you through, in case of accidents. But there will be
no accidents. What is the use of borrowing trouble about that?"

They did not borrow any trouble, and as they drove away from the
scenes that had grown so familiar to them, they looked forward, as all
boys would, to an adventurous voyage down the Missouri, and a welcome
home to their mothers and their friends in dear old Dixon.

The nights were now cold and the days chilly. They had cooked a goodly
supply of provisions for their journey, for they had not much ready
money to pay for fare by the way. At noon they stopped by the roadside
and made a pot of hot coffee, opened their stores of provisions and
lunched merrily, gypsy-fashion, caring nothing for the curious looks
and inquisitive questions of other wayfarers who passed them. For the
first few nights they attempted to sleep in the wagon. But it was
fearfully cold, and the wagon-bed, cluttered up with trunks, guns, and
other things, gave them very little room. Miserable and sore, they
resolved to sp