These conditions were agreed to as soon as stated, and we were seated to breakfast. This finished, we found Mr. Morrison at the door with a horse, saddled. He addressed Rees, saying, "Take this money and ride to the mill at Saint Joe and buy nine barrels of flour, and Nancy, how much corn meal have we in the house?—"Oh, a right smart chance," was the answer of the person addressed, Mrs. Morrison. "Well," continued our new employer, "get three hundred pounds of corn meal; I reckon that will last as long as it will keep good."
He then gave Rees directions how to find the nearest way to Saint Joseph, and Rees started. He then asked me to go with him, and taking an axe led the way to some young oak trees a long rifle shot from the house. He cut a selected young tree, and taking the clean stem of good length for a wagon pole, took the butt end on his shoulder and asked me to take the other, and we carried it near the front of the residence. Here he set me to work taking the bark off with a dress knife. He was yet watching my efforts to follow directions when Mrs. Morrison, from the door of the kitchen end of the double cabin, said, "Wilson, you will feel mighty queer if that man serves you a Yankee trick and goes off with your horse and money." Mr. Morrison paused a little and replied, "Well, if he does, he'd better not let me overtake him; that's all I've got to say." She laughed, and retired within. He seemed satisfied I could do this first assistance in preparing for the Oregon Trail, and left me at the pole while he attended to other matters; but there was a warming sensation around my heart, as something almost forced me to say, "Trusting, and therefore trusty." The wife's laugh was still sounding something like that.
I worked assiduously for a few minutes, but happening to look in the direction whence we had brought the
