m.
Eastward-traveling caravans were wont to be small and poorly outfitted,
for only the homesick, the failures, the wanderers, and the lawless
turned their faces from the Golden State. At the start Horn had eleven
men, three women, and the girl. On the way he had killed one of the
men; and another, together with his wife, had yielded to persuasion of
friends at Ogden and had left the party. So when Horn halted for camp
one afternoon in a beautiful valley in the Wyoming hills there were only
nine men with him.

On a long journey through wild country strangers grow close together or
far apart. Bill Horn did not think much of the men who had accepted the
chance he offered them, and daily he grew more aloof. They were not a
responsible crowd, and the best he could get out of them was the driving
of oxen and camp chores indifferently done. He had to kill the meat
and find the water and keep the watch. Upon entering the Wyoming hills
region Horn showed a restlessness and hurry and anxiety. This in no wise
affected the others. They continued to be aimless and careless as men
who had little to look forward to.

This beautiful valley offered everything desirable for a camp site
except natural cover or protection in case of attack. But Horn had to
take the risk. The oxen were tired, the wagons had to be greased, and it
was needful to kill meat. Here was an abundance of grass, a clear brook,
wood for camp-fires, and sign of game on all sides.

"Haul round--make a circle!" Horn ordered the drivers of the oxen.

This was the first time he had given this particular order, and the men
guffawed or grinned as they hauled the great, clumsy prairie-schooners
into a circle. The oxen were unhitched; the camp duffle piled out; the
ring of axes broke the stillness; fires were started.

Horn took his rifle and strode away up the brook to disappear in the
green brush of a ravine.

It was early in the evening, with the sun not yet out of sight behind
a lofty ridge that topped the valley slope. High grass, bleached white,
shone brightly on the summit. Soon several columns of blue smoke curled
lazily aloft until, catching the wind high up, they were swept away.
Meanwhile the men talked at their tasks.

"Say, pard, did you come along this here Laramie Trail goin' West?"
asked one.

"Nope. I hit the Santa Fe Trail," was the reply.

"How about you, Jones?"

"Same fer me."

"Wal," said another, "I went round to California by ship, an' I'