“I don’t know, but on the ground, by the dismantled tent, I saw a human arm which had been lopped from the shoulder.”
“Yes, it was the arm of a young man about your age, who doubtless had excited the anger of the Indians by resistance.”
Mr. Silverthorn put his red handkerchief to his eyes and sobbed, or appeared to do so, convulsively.
“Excuse these tears,” he said. “They are a tribute to my murdered friends.”
“Did you follow the Indians? Did you try to find out where they had carried your companions?”
“No. It would have been no good. I was single-handed.”
“I would have done it!” said Tom resolutely.
“I would expect it of you, for you are a brave young man.”
“By your looks and manner. I am not. You may despise me, but I am obliged to confess that I am chicken-hearted. I am afraid I am a coward. It is not a pleasant confession, but I do not wish to represent myself other than I am.”
“Then I am afraid that you are not the right kind of a man to cross the plains to California.”
“I am not sure but you are right. I sometimes think so myself. But I hoped to retrieve my fortunes, and in my state of health there seemed no other way open to me.”
“You haven’t had much encouragement yet?”
“No, but I feel that I am fortunate in meeting with your friendly party. And this emboldens me to make a request.”
“Will you let me travel with you? I am alone, quite alone. It would make me happy to be with you. The sight of that boy, who reminds me of my lost son, would be a daily source of happiness to me.”
Mr. Cooper hesitated, and the expression of his face showed that the proposal was distasteful to him.
“You can stay with us to-night,” he answered briefly. “I cannot promise more.”
The little party generally lay down to sleep soon after eight. The days were always fatiguing, and they were in the habit of rising early.
The weather was warm, for it was toward the end of June, and they did not even raise the tent, but lay down on the ground with a blanket underneath and above them. Mrs. Cooper generally slept in the wagon.
“We have an extra pair of blankets, Mr. Silverthorn,” said Mrs. Cooper. “We cannot offer you a bed; you will fare as well as my husband and the boys.”
“How kind you are!” murmured Dionysius. “To me this simple provision will be a luxury. For a week I have slept on the bare ground without a blanket.”