"I started out sort of reckless on this trip," he said, slowly. "I'm
nearly twenty and never been worth a dang to anybody anywhere on God's
earth; so I thought I might as well be where things looked interestin'.
But"--he hesitated--"I'm gettin' a lot stronger every day, a whole lot
stronger. Mebby I'd be of some use afterwhile--I don't know, though. I
reckon I'd better wait till we get to that Council Grove place. Sounds
like a nice locality to rest and think in. Are you goin' on, anyhow,
Clarenden, crowd or no crowd?"

"Though the heavens fall," my uncle answered, simply.

Jondo had turned quickly to hear this reply and a great light leaped
into his deep-set blue eyes. I glanced over at Aunty Boone, sitting
apart from us, as she ever chose to do, her own eyes dull, as they
always were when she saw keenest; and I remembered how, back at Fort
Leavenworth, she had commented on this journey, saying: "They tote
together always, an' they're totin' now." Child though I was, I felt
that a something more than the cargo of goods was leading my uncle to
Santa Fé. What I did not understand was his motive for taking Beverly
and Mat and me with him. I had been satisfied before just to go, but now
I wanted very much to know why I was going.

Council Grove by the Neosho River was the end of civilization for the
freighter. Beyond it the wilderness spread its untamed lengths, and
excepting Bent's Fort far up the Arkansas River on the line of the first
old trail, rarely followed now, it held not a sign of civilization for
the traveler until he should reach the first outposts of the Mexican
almost in the shadow of Santa Fé. It is no wonder that wagon-trains
mobilized here, waiting for an increase in numbers before they dared to
start on westward. And now there were no trains waiting for our coming.