your exhorters along. It's a family camp. Most of us going out to
Californy. Goin' to cross the plains. Some up in the woods there
goin' to Missoury. Don't care where they're goin' if they want to
stop and camp with us. _We're_ from the Pan Handle of Virginia.
There's a dozen families or more of us goin' out to Californy
together. The rest just happened along."

"I'm a Virginian myself," said Grandma Padgett, warming, "though
Ohio's been my State for many years."

"Well, now," exclaimed the mover, "if you want to light right down,
we'll be all the gladder for that. I saw you stoppin' here uncertain;
and there's the ford over Little Miami ahead of you. I thought you'd
not like to try it in the dark."

"You're not like a landlord back on the road that let us risk our
necks!" said Grandma Padgett with appreciation. "But if you take
everybody into camp ain't you afraid of getting the wrong sort?"

"Oh, no," replied the Virginian. "There's enough of _us_ to
overpower _them_."

"Well, Zene," said Grandma Padgett, "I guess we'd better stop here.
We've provisions in our wagon."

"How far you goin'?" inquired the hospitable mover.

"Into Illinois," replied the head of the small caravan.

"Your trip'll soon be done, then. Come on, now, and go to Californy,