The main thing Stanton saw was that it smelled smoky however not of wood smoke. It was like Hastings had been consuming spices or blossoms, and the smell reviewed Tamsen pointedly to him, the smell of her hair on his fingers, the manner in which her skin tasted. Dangling from wooden stakes were many Indian charms made of plumes, twigs, and string. The cart looked like it had been stripped, the floor a mixed bag of barrels and chests and hogsheads. As his eyes became accustomed to the dull, Stanton saw a massive figure groveling at their methodology, hunched behind a calfskin lashed trunk. A rifle barrel glimmered in the faint light. Under various conditions, at an alternate time, Lansford Hastings may have been attractive; he had a square jaw, a solid forehead, and dull, sharp eyes. Presently his face was powdered with trail dust. His hair was roped in messy strands. Stanton approached carefully, really mindful of the rifle pointed at him. “Lansford Hastings? We address another cart party. We saw your handbill and expected you would be at Fort Bridger to lead us down the cutoff. Yet, when we arrived at the trailhead we discovered your note.” At this current, Hastings’ eyes became animated and chosen Stanton. “For what reason didn’t you tune in? You shouldn’t have come.” “Look here, Hastings, we came this way in the wake of perusing your book,” Reed shouted out abruptly, overlooking the look Stanton gave him. “I wouldn’t fret disclosing to you that it was a significant shock to will Fort Bridger just to discover you’d gone. Furthermore, that note. I speculate you’re only a con artist,” Reed said. “How is it possible that you would compose those things in your book if the course—” “It isn’t the course that is the issue,” Hastings said without further ado. “The cutoff is a troublesome entry, yet it very well may be finished. I’ve done it.” He shook his head. “It’s something different altogether. There’s something following us.” The charms attached to the dividers mixed faintly, as though a ghost hand had passed along them. Stanton scowled. “We know. The men advised us. Creatures—” “They don’t have a clue.” Now that Hastings was standing, Stanton could smell him; he possessed an aroma like something wiped out and frightened, an injured creature. “It’s anything but a creature, in any event, no sort of creature I’ve at any point seen.” His voice continued jumping into a higher register. “There’s no game in these woods—have you taken note? That is on the grounds that there’s not much. Nothing. Something’s out there eating each living thing.” “A bunch of wolves,” Reed said. Yet, he sounded uncomfortable. “That is the thing that we’ve heard, as far back as Fort Laramie.” “No,” Hastings demanded. “I know wolves. I know how they chase. This is unique. The Indians know it, as well.” Hastings let out a chuckle that seemed as though he were gagging. “They took a kid, close to twelve, I swear, and left him attached to a tree out in the forest back over the edge. They just headed out and left him there. Forgotten about him for anything that’s there, taking care of. I can in any case hear him shouting.” Stanton had known about men unhinged by the wild, by such a large number of years battling the dim infringement of the normal world. He puzzled over whether Hastings had essentially come unraveled. However, regardless of his foulness and the manner in which his hands shuddered, Hastings didn’t appear to be insane. Frightened, yes. Insane, no. “Just get-togethers left Fort Bridger, a young lady disappeared,” Hastings said. Presently his voice had dropped once more, to right around a murmur. “Each man in the party went out to look for her without any result. And a few miles into the forest, we discovered her body, destroyed, nothing left except for the skeleton.” Stanton thought about the Nystrom kid, and the awful wreck of his body. The face turned sideways, like he’d recently lain in the soil to rest. This young lady had been discovered miles in front of the cart train, the same way they’d discovered Nystrom. The hairs on the rear of Stanton’s neck lifted. The charms mixed again in the tranquility. He was perspiring. Being encircled by Hastings’ knickknacks disturbed him, helping him to remember Tamsen. This garbage can’t secure you; nothing could ensure them. He didn’t have a clue where the idea had come from. However, it was valid. “You need to advise your cart party to pivot. Head for Fort Hall and the northern course as quick as possible. These men will not release me or I’d implore you to take me with you. Save yourselves.” Reed didn’t talk until he and Stanton were well away from the abandoned cart party. “Satan take Lansford Hastings. I’ll never trust another legal advisor however long I live.” Reed spit on the ground. “Has the man flipped out, do you think?” “No,” Stanton said gradually. “No, I don’t think so.” Reed gazed at him. “So you accept this account of beasts in the forest?” “I don’t have confidence in beasts,” Stanton said. “Just men who act like them.”