When he saw Susan he delayed his
advance to put on a ragged army overcoat that hung to his heels, and
evidently hid discrepancies in his costume not meet for a lady's eye.
Both men were powdered with dust, and announced themselves as hungry
enough to eat their horses.
Out came pans and supplies, and the snapping of bacon fat and smell of
coffee rose pungent. Though, by their own account, they had ridden
hard and far, there was a feverish energy of life in each of them that
roused the drooping spirits of the others like an electrifying current.
They ate ravenously, pausing between mouthfuls to put quick questions
on the condition of the eastward trail, its grazing grounds, what
supplies could be had at the Forts. It was evident they were new to
journeying on the great bare highways of the wilderness, but that fact
seemed to have no blighting effect on their zeal. What and who they
were came out in the talk that gushed in the intervals of feeding. The
fair-haired man was a sailor, shipped from Boston round the Horn for
California eight months before. The fact that he was a deserter
dropped out with others.
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