The Way West by A. B. Guthrie Jr. Page B

took a long time talking to God, time enough for an ant to crawl from the toe of Dick Summers' moccasin a distance of two ax handles, not counting the backings up and the side trips along spears of grass. Evans sneaked a look at Summers while the preaching was going on and saw his head hardly bowed and his eyes empty with distance. He wondered whether Summers believed in God at all. Not that it made any difference. Any God worth praying to would know Dick Summers for a good man, even if he didn't bow and scrape and make little of himself and beg for blessings regardless. Evans didn't guess Summers ever would beg for anything, not even from God.
   When Weatherby was through, Tadlock said, "We have rules to adopt and a permanent organization to set up."
   Another voice was yelling at him. Tadlock tried to drown it out and then to hush it with his hand, but it kept piping up. Finally Tadlock asked, "What is it, Turley?"
   Evans moved around so as to see Turley. Turley had joined the company late, from the hill and pine country of the Meramec. The words came high-pitched from his thin mouth. "'Pears to me the first thing is to think again, do we want to go on or wait for some that ain't quite ready? This here's a small train. Ain't enough growed men in it, to my way o' thinkin'. Where we be, meetin' the Pawnees or Sioux? There's a passel of people comin', like we all know, hunderds of 'em. Doc Welch of Indiany said we could j'in him. Told me so hisself. I say let's wait. Be a hunderd wagons along directly."
   Hoots and hollers arose all around, more hoots than hollers.
   "Quiet! Orderl" Tadlock roared, beating on the plate. His voice sharpened as the noise died. "This has all been thrashed out. Anyone who joined this company knew we planned to start early to get there first. Our company's big enough. Twentytwo wagons, nearly thirty armed men." His arm came out, pointing. "Ask Dick Summers there. He knows. He'll tell you a company can be too big, so big that it's slow and hard to manage." He looked at Turley. "Anyone who's afraid can wait. We're going on. That's settled."
   Turley shuffled while more voices sounded out. Evans imagined it was Mrs. Turley who had egged him on. Tadlock was all business. "Is the committee ready to report?" he asked as if he didn't know.
   Mack answered, "It is," and stepped forward with the wrinkles of thinking on his face and said, "Your committee recommends that Irvine Tadlock be elected captain and Charles Fairman lieutenant, and Henry Shields captain of the livestock guard, each to serve to the end of the trail."
   An Illinois German named Brewer made a motion to accept the report, and Hank McBee, speaking loud out of his mangy beard, seconded the motion.
   Tadlock made as if to step down from the bucket, saying, "Will someone preside? It isn't right for me to," but the voices went up in yells of "Yes" and "Keep the stump" and "Whoa, there," and Tadlock put his foot back on the bucket and asked, "Well, if it's unanimous?" He got more yells for an answer.
   "Thank you. Thank you all. I'll do my very best. Is there a further report then?"
   There was. Mack read it off. Evans, listening with just half his mind, heard it in snatches. . . . Recommend the train be called the On-to-Oregon Outfit. . . . Recommend a governing council of six be elected.... Recommend tax to pay expenses, including two hundred dollars for the pilot. . . . Recommend no ardent spirits be taken, except for medical purposes. ... Require wagons be capable of carrying a quarter more than their load, teams of drawing a quarter more. . . . Death for murder. . . . Thirty-nine lashes for three days for rape. ... Thirty-nine lashes on the bare back for adultery and fornication (big-sounding words for something simple). . . . Council to fix penalty for indecent language. . . . Recommend train start at seven o'clock every morning and travel from ten to fifteen miles every day. . . .
A long list,