They had probably come up with the Silsbee train; in a few moments the change would be effected and all of his strange experience would be over.

He must get up now.

Yet, with the morning laziness of the healthy young animal, he curled up a moment longer in his luxurious couch.
How quiet it was! There were far-off voices, but they seemed suppressed and hurried.

Through the window he saw one of the teamsters run rapidly past him with a strange, breathless, preoccupied face, halt a moment at one of the following wagons, and then run back again to the front.
Then two of the voices came nearer, with the dull beating of hoofs in the dust.
"Rout out the boy and ask him," said a half-suppressed, impatient voice, which Clarence at once recognized as the man Harry's.
"Hold on till Peyton comes up," said the second voice, in a low tone; "leave it to him." "Better find out what they were like, at once," grumbled Harry.
"Wait, stand back," said Peyton's voice, joining the others; "I'LL ask him." Clarence looked wonderingly at the door.

It opened on Mr.Peyton, dusty and dismounted, with a strange, abstracted look in his face.
"How many wagons are in your train, Clarence ?" "Three, sir." "Any marks on them ?" "Yes, sir," said Clarence, eagerly: "'Off to California' and 'Root, Hog, or Die.'" Mr.Peyton's eye seemed to leap up and hold Clarence's with a sudden, strange significance, and then looked down.
"How many were you in all ?" he continued.
"Five, and there was Mrs.Silsbee." "No other woman ?" "No." "Get up and dress yourself," he said gravely, "and wait here till I come back.