On ahead the landscape seemed so wholly free of danger that to most of these the road to the Far West offered no more than a pleasure jaunt.

Wingate and his immediate aids were well worn when at mid afternoon they halted, fifteen miles out from Westport.
"What in hell you pulling up so soon for ?" demanded Sam Woodhull surlily, riding up from his own column, far at the rear, and accosting the train leader.

"We can go five miles further, anyhow, and maybe ten.
We'll never get across in this way." "This is the very way we will get across," rejoined Wingate.

"While I'm captain I'll say when to start and stop.

But I've been counting on you, Woodhull, to throw in with me and help me get things shook down." "Well, hit looks to me ye're purty brash as usual," commented another voice.