" Child though I was, I felt
that a something more than the cargo of goods was leading my uncle to
Santa Fe. 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 Fe. 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.
Only a gripping necessity could have led a man like Esmond Clarenden to
take the trail alone in the certain perils of the plains during the
middle '40's. I did not know until long afterward how brave was the
loving heart that beat in that little merchant's bosom. A devotee of
ease and refinement, he walked the prairie trails unafraid, and made the
desert serve his will.
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