He was small, not much taller than Pete Domley, and his horse, a clean-limbed sorrel, seemed huge in comparison. The man wore a wool cap, a buffalo skin coat with the hair still on, and cloth trousers that were tucked into high-laced moccasins. A luxuriant black beard fell a third of the way down his chest. He carried a long rifle crosswise on the front of his saddle, and strapped behind was a small pack. Joe sat forward on the seat and he felt Emma move with him. The children crowded forward, staring with frank curiosity at this, the first man they had met since they were a couple of days out of Kearney. There might have been others near the trail, but if there had been any, they hadn't met them. Now they were going to meet, and for a little while the country seemed neither so lonely nor so vast. Joe halted the mules and the rider stopped his horse beside them. Though he was small, his voice was loud and blasting, "Migosh! Emigrants! What'd you do? Get lost?" "Yep!" Joe laughed for the sheer joy of laughing and because it felt so good to meet someone else. "Plumb lost!" "You must have. Do you know how far behind the rest you are?" "We left late." "You don't figure on gettin' to Oregon this season, do you?" "Just to Laramie. How far is it?" "A piece up the Trail. I left there yesterday at midmornin'." "Then we should make it in tomorrow?" "I don't know," the rider said doubtfully. "You could if you was ridin' horses, but you'll have to make them mules step some with a wagon behind 'em." "It's almost noon," Emma spoke up. "Why don't we lunch here and ask Mr.--" "Gaystell, ma'am," the rider swept off his hat and bowed to Emma. "John Gaystell, and I'll be right proud to join you in a bit of lunch. I didn't expect to see any white folks this side of Kearney." Joe stepped down, turned to help Emma, and stood aside as Tad and Barbara alighted. Joe caught the younger children in his arms and helped them down; they could descend without his help but this was faster. He was swinging Carlyle to the ground when he heard Emma say, "My daughter, Barbara Tower, Mr. Gaystell." "Pleased to know you, miss. Say, more wagons goin' to Oregon should carry freight like you! Dress up the country no end!" Barbara blushed and Joe grinned. The men of Missouri were outspoken, but few of them were as candid as John Gaystell. While Tad climbed back into the wagon and tossed wood to the ground, Joe unhitched the mules but left them in harness. He slipped their bridles and picketed the team where they could find good grazing. When he was finished, Tad had the fire started and Barbara and Emma were preparing lunch. John Gaystell slipped unobtrusively over to stand beside Joe, and startled him by lowering his voice to a whisper. "You goin' to winter at Laramie?" "Why?"