“I do not recognize the names you mention.” “The elder is Garret Chadwick and his nephew, who I judge is nearly my own age, is Ross Brandley. The note is for the younger.” “Sorry, but I never heard of them before.” “Then,” said the disappointed Alden, “they cannot be members of your party.” “They are not; we have never met either.” “I beg your pardon for my mistake; you will excuse me for not remaining. I thank you for your courtesy, and you and your friends have my best wishes for a pleasant journey to the other side of the continent.” The trio exchanged military salutations, after the men had repeated their invitation for the visitor to go forward and meet other members of the company. Alden put his foot in the stirrup and sprang into the saddle. “Too bad,” he muttered, “but I shall meet that fellow before many days.” He was right in his surmise, but little did he dream of the circumstances which were to attend that memorable meeting. CHAPTER XII A NOT UNCOMMON INCIDENT It would be interesting to trace the progress of the emigrant train westward for the following weeks, but, there would be a certain monotony in the narration. The routine went on for days with little variation. Making their way through the Laramie range, they went northward along the western slope, over the course of the Laramie River, after spending a night in camp near the old fort where they were hospitably treated by the garrison. Where the Laramie River rushes eastward through the mountain range, they turned in the opposite direction toward the famous South Pass, that wide gateway through the great Rocky Mountains. Beyond that they were to travel southwest and past Fort Bridger to Salt Lake City. It was the glad summer time, but the travelers suffered little from the heat which is often unbearable in the deserts and valleys. Most of the country is so elevated that the climate is delightful throughout the warm months. Despite the season, however, they were caught in more than one terrific snow storm while groping through the foothills, and once a driving rain and sleet seemed to chill men and animals to their bones. But for the big fires that were kindled and kept vigorously going, Alden Payne believed some of them would have perished. “As fur dis chile,” chattered Jethro, with his thick blanket wrapped about him to his ears; “I shan’t get warm fur sebenteen yeahs.” “Ye must have patience,” remarked the grim Shagbark; “yer turn will come after ye cross the Big Divide.” The African failed to catch the point of this significant remark, though it caused smiles on the part of the other listeners. Shots had been exchanged with prowling Indians fully a score of times. It was extraordinary that although there were many narrow escapes on the part of the white men, not one had been so much as wounded. Shagbark was confident that he picked off one or two dusky prowlers.