Jim replied, "That is who we are."

One of them then asked if we would pilot another train to California.

Jim answered, "I don't know. The Indians are getting so dog goned thick
that there is no fun in the job, but you folks go and get your supper,
and let us eat ours. We are dog goned hungry, for we haven't had a bite
since day-break this morning. You can come back here after supper, and
we will talk to you."

By this time there must have been a hundred men standing around us, but
when Jim told them that we wanted to eat our supper, they all scattered.
After they had left us, Jim said, "You get supper, Will, and I will go
and see whether there is any system about this outfit or not, and if
supper is ready before I get back, don't wait for me, for I may not get
back in half an hour or more."

I had got my meat on the fire and was just making the coffee when a
number of women, I should think about a dozen of them, came near me and
stopped and gazed at me. I bid them good evening and asked them to have
supper with me. One of them answered, "No, I came to ask you to come and
eat supper with us. My father sent me to invite you."

I thanked her and told her that as my own supper was nearly ready, I
would eat at my own camp. I had taken my Buck-skin coat off and laid it
on our pack. One of the women asked me if she could look at it. I told
her that she could if she wished to.

While they were looking at the coat and exclaiming over its beauty (it
was heavily embroidered with beads and porcupine quills, and was an odd
looking garment to one not accustomed to seeing the clothing of the
frontiers men), a couple of girls came running to me, saying, "Father
wants you to come and eat supper with us, Mr. Bridger is eating now." So
I took the meat and coffee off the fire and put my coat on and went with
them. When I got in speaking distance of Jim, I said, "I thought you
told me to cook supper." Jim answered, "I know I did Will, but we didn't
have any fried onions, and these folks have, so I thought we would eat
here and save our supper."

The people all laughed at Jim being so saving, and then the old man
asked what we would charge to pilot the train through to California. Jim
asked, "How many wagons have you in this outfit?"

He answered that he was not sure, but he thought there were about a
hundred and thirty-five.

"How many men are there in the train?" The old man said, "Oh, dog gone
it, I can't tell."

Jim said,