We watched the strange procession go by. There was only
one man, without doubt Henderson, grizzled and seemingly sixty
years old. The wagon wheels were almost as tall as he was, and
the tires were four inches wide. The last wagon disappeared up
the trail in the dust and darkness.
"Well," said Jack, "I think when I start out driving at this
time of night with twenty-two guileless oxen and four ten-ton
wagons that I'll want to get somewhere pretty badly." Then we
went back to the Rattletrap.
X: AMONG THE MOUNTAINS
After we got back to the Rattletrap we promised ourselves
plenty of Sport the next day watching the freighters with their
long teams and wagon trains. Jack could not recover from his
first glimpse of Henderson.
"Rather a neat little turnout to take a young lady out
driving with," he said, after we had gone to bed. "Twenty-two
oxen and four wagons. Plenty of room. Take along her father and
mother. And the rest of the family. And her school-mates. And the
whole town. Good team to go after the doctor with if somebody was
sick--mile and a half an hour.
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