“I think you are foolish, Mr. Heywood,” Rodney began, “to lend Grant Colburn money to go to California.”
“Who told you I had supplied him with money?” he asked.
“He must have got the money somewhere, so I concluded you had let him have it.”
“Then you concluded wrong. He never asked me to lend him money. If he had——”
“Well, if he had?” repeated Rodney eagerly.
“If he had, I should probably have done it. Grant Colburn’s a hardworking boy and a good fellow, and I think he’ll be happier out in California than on your grandfather’s farm.”
“It’ll be a relief to grandfather to have him go. He’s been supporting him for the last two years.”
“Grant has earned his living twice over. He’ll have to work hard in California, but he’ll be paid for it. I shouldn’t be surprised to see him a rich man some time.”
Rodney scowled and walked away. He thought the prediction ridiculous, and hoped it would not come true.
The day before they were to start Grant came over and spent the night with Mr. Cooper and his family. The blacksmith had been guided by John Heywood in making his preparations. Independence, Mo., was at that time the usual starting-point for overland emigrants, and it was to this point that the little party directed their course. Mr. Cooper started with two horses, but at Independence he exchanged one of them for a yoke of oxen, being advised that oxen were upon the whole more reliable, and less likely to be stolen by the Indians. Here, too, he laid in a supply of flour, bacon, coffee, and sugar, with a quantity of rice, crackers, and smaller articles, for they were going through a land where there were no hotels, and must carry their own provender.
When they had completed their outfit they set out. A long journey lay before them. From Independence to the gold region was rather more than two thousand miles, and such were the difficulties of the way that they only averaged about fifteen miles a day. A detailed account of the trip would only be wearisome, and I shall confine myself to some of the salient incidents.
The custom was to make an early start and stop at intervals, partly for the preparation of meals and partly to give the patient animals a chance to rest.
One evening—it was about ten weeks after the start—they had encamped for the night, and Mrs. Cooper, assisted by Grant, was preparing supper, a fire having been kindled about fifty feet from the wagon, when steps were heard, and a singular looking figure emerged from the underbush. It was a man, with a long, grizzled beard, clad in a tattered garb, with an old slouch hat on his head, and a long, melancholy visage.