“To-night,” he concluded, “we’ll head up the river, an’ leave you fellers the boat an’ all o’ Papin’s Ferry to git acrost the way you want.  Thar hain’t no manner o’ man, outfit, river er redskin that Ole Missoury kain’t lick, take ’em as they come, them to name the holts an’ the rules.  We done showed you-all that.  We’re goin’ to show you some more.  So good-by.”  He held out his hand.  “Ye helped see far, an’ ye’re a far man, an’ we’ll miss ye.  Ef ye git in need o’ help come to us.  Ole Missoury won’t need no help.”

“Well, Woodhull’s one of you Missourians,” remarked Price.

“Yes, but he ain’t bred true.  Major Banion is.  Hit was me that made him fight knuckle an’ skull an’ not with weapons.  He didn’t want to, but I had a reason.  I’m content an’ soothe jest the way she lies.  Ef Will never sees the gal agin she ain’t wuth the seem’.

“Ye’ll find Col.  William Banion at the head o’ his own train.  He’s fitten, an’ he’s fout an’ proved hit”

CHAPTER XI

WHEN ALL THE WORLD WAS YOUNG

Molly Wingate kneeled by her cooking fire the following morning, her husband meantime awaiting the morning meal impatiently.  All along the medley of crowded wagons rose confused sounds of activity at a hundred similar firesides.

“Where’s Little Molly?” demanded Wingate.  “We got to be up and coming.”

“Her and Jed is off after the cattle.  Well, you heard the news last night.  You’ve got to get someone else to run the herd.  If each family drives its own loose stock everything’ll be all mixed up.  The Liberty outfit pulled on by at dawn.  Well, anyways they left us the sawmill and the boat.

“Sam Woodhull, he’s anxious to get on ahead of the Missourians,” she added.  “He says he’ll take the boat anyhow, and not pay them Kaws any such hold-up price like they ask.”

“All I got to say is, I wish we were across,” grumbled Wingate, stooping to the bacon spider.

“Huh!  So do I—­me and my bureau and my hens.  Yes, after you’ve fussed around a while you men’ll maybe come to the same conclusion your head cowguard had; you’ll be making more boats and doing less swimming.  I’m sorry he quit us.”

“It’s the girl,” said her husband sententiously.

“Yes.  But”—­smiling grimly—­“one furse don’t make a parting.”

“She’s same as promised Sam Woodhull, Molly, and you know that.”

“Before he got whipped by Colonel Banion.”

“Colonel!  Fine business for an officer!  Woodhull told me he tripped and this other man was on top of him and nigh gouged out his two eyes.  And he told me other things too.  Banion’s a traitor, to split the train.  We can spare all such.”

“Can we?” rejoined his wife.  “I sort of thought—­”

“Never mind what you thought.  He’s one of the unruly, servigerous sort; can’t take orders, and a trouble maker always.  We’ll show that outfit.  I’ve ordered three more scows built and the seams calked in the wagon boxes.”