“It’s my color all right,” responded Davy, without being teased, as he picked up the shirt. “Much obliged.” He slipped it over his head. It fitted more like a blouse than a shirt, but he needed something of the kind. After he had turned back the sleeves and tucked in the long tails, he was very comfortable. “Climb on your mule, Red,” bade Billy Cody. “We’re going to start, and Lew Simpson won’t wait for anybody.” Mr. Simpson was already on his mule. The other mounted men were in their saddles. Mr. Simpson cast a keen glance adown the line. “All ready?” he shouted. “Go ahead.” The long lash of the leading teamster shot out with a resounding crack. “Gee-up!” he cried. “You Buck! Spot!” And again his whip cracked smartly. His six yoke of oxen leaned to their work; the wagon creaked as it moved. All down the line other whips were cracking, and other teamsters were shouting, and the wagons creaked and groaned. One after another they started, until the whole train was in motion. Mr. Simpson and two or three companions led, keeping to the advance. The other riders were scattered in bunches back on either side of the train; the teamsters walked beside their wagons; and in the rear of the train ambled a large bunch of loose cattle and mules, driven by a herder. Billy Cody and Dave rode together, well up toward the front. “Did you ever freight any?” queried Billy. “What was that train you were with? Just emigrants?” “Yes,” answered Davy. “We were going to Salt Lake.” “Mormons?” demanded Billy, quickly. “No. After we’d got to Salt Lake maybe we’d have gone on to California.” “Expect I’ll go across to California sometime,” asserted Billy. “How old are you, Red?” “Eleven.” “I’m thirteen, but I’ve been drawing pay with a bull train three trips out and back. The first time I was herder from Fort Leavenworth out to Fort Kearney and back. Next time I was herder from Leavenworth for Salt Lake, but the Injuns turned us at Plum Creek just beyond Fort Kearney and we had to quit. I killed an Injun too dead to skin, but I was so scared I didn’t know what I was doing. Last summer I went out as extra hand with a big outfit for the soldiers at Salt Lake, but the Mormons held us up and took all our stuff, so we couldn’t help the army, and we had to spend the winter at Fort Bridger, and all of us nearly starved.” “What’s an extra hand?” asked Davy. “He takes the place of any other man, who may be sick or hurt,” explained Billy, importantly. “I’m drawing man’s pay; forty a month. I’m saving it to give to my mother, as soon as I get back. Weren’t you ever with a bull train before?” Davy shook his head. “No.”