THE BOY 
 SETTLER 
 
 EBWIN-L- SABIN 
 
See page 120. 
 THUNDER HORSE GRABBED VAINLY AT HIM AND WHEELED IN PURSUIT. 
 
THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 OR 
 
 TERRY IN THE NEW WEST 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWIN L. SABIN 
 
 AUTHOR OP "BAR i BOYS," "RANGE AND TRAIL," "SCARFACB RANCH." ETC. 
 
 Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools. 
 Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules; 
 Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line. 
 And plenty of pins of American pine : 
 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be. 
 
 A government firm, and our citizens free. 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1916, 
 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. 
 
S//5- 
 
 Wrus 
 
 PRAIRIE PEOPLE 
 
 TERRY RICHARDS The Boy Settler 
 
 His FATHER Who Has a Strange Adventure 
 
 His MOTHER Terry's Best Help 
 
 GEORGE STANTON . . . Who Becomes Terry's New Brother 
 
 VIRGIE STANTON Rescued by Terry 
 
 FALL LEAF Delaware Chief 
 
 GENERAL JACKSON Terry's Delaware Friend 
 
 THUNDER HORSE A Troublesome Kiowa 
 
 MR. and MRS. STANTON Good Neighbors 
 
 SOL JUDY Another Friend in Need 
 
 HARRY REVERE Terry's Partner 
 
 SHEP Brave Dog 
 
 CAPTAIN STEUART *| ^ . TT _ , 
 
 X Of the U. S. Cavalry 
 
 LIEUTENANT ARNOLD J 
 
 SERGEANT MURPHY Plains Veteran 
 
 BUCK and SPOT, the Old Mare's Colt, the Tame Turkey, 
 the Half-Buffalo Calf, Pine Knot Ike, Jim, Ned, 
 John Bushman, and Other Folk of More or Less 
 Importance. 
 
 PLACE AND TIME: Kansas Territory of the New West, 
 in Emigrant Days. 
 
 M695184 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. WESTWARD Ho I 
 
 II. INDIAN FRIENDS 16 
 
 III. THE ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK , 30 
 
 IV. THE NEW HOME . . . . . .43 
 
 V. AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT ... 59 
 
 VI. TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY . . .71 
 
 VII. HARD WORK AHEAD 87 
 
 VIII. THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE . 102 
 
 IX. Two AMAZING ENCOUNTERS . . . 113 
 
 X. TERRY FINDS A PARTNER . . . .134 
 
 XI. THE PARTNER GETS BUSY . . . 147 
 
 XII. HARRY RIDES THE COLT . . . .161 
 
 XIII. HUNTING WITH THE DELA WARES . 174 
 
 XIV. MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH . 191 
 XV. ON THE WAR TRAIL 205 
 
 XVI. SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN . . .221 
 
 XVII. A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES . . . 240 
 
 XVIII. NEWS FROM THE WEST .... 252 
 
 XIX. TACKLING THE TIMBER .... 268 
 
 XX. THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD . . . 280 
 
 XXI. FATHER RICHARDS WAKES UP . . 295 
 
THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WESTWARD HO! 
 
 "WHOA, Buck! Spot! Haw, now! Haw! Gee, 
 Buck! Gee-up!" 
 
 Such was the tune lustily sung by young Terry 
 Richards, trudging, whip in hand and big boots on 
 feet, at the fore wheel of the wagon. 
 
 It was a large, white-hooded wagon, drawn by 
 two oxen, one red, the other spotted. The red ox 
 was Buck, the spotted ox of course was Spot. 
 Framed in the puckered front end of the wagon hood 
 was sitting Terry's mother; and the wagon was 
 stuffed full of household furniture and of provisions 
 and farming material, ending with a chicken-coop hung 
 at the rear. Behind followed the old mare and her 
 colt, with Terry's father riding the mare. And at 
 Terry's heels paced Shep; good old Shep, the black 
 shaggy dog. 
 
 The oxen tugged and grunted, their neck-yoke 
 creaked, the wagon lurched and groaned, the three hens 
 and the rooster pitched about and cried " Ka-daw-ka ! " 
 the colt whinnied, and as boss driver of the outfit Terry 
 
 i 
 
2 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 in his muddy boots shouted: "Gee! Whoa! Gee! 
 Yip with you, Spot ! Yip ! " 
 
 This was a great trip for Terry Richards. Now in 
 the middle of April, 1858, he and his mother and 
 father, with Shep and the oxen and the chickens and 
 the mare and her colt had been on the road almost two 
 weeks, from Kansas City, westward bound to the farm 
 that his father had located out beyond the frontier in 
 this new Territory of Kansas. Clear from Ohio had 
 they come, first, to St. Louis, then by steamboat up the 
 Missouri River to Kansas City, where Mr. Richards 
 had left them while he went ahead to spy out the land. 
 
 He had found the place that he wanted 160 acres 
 of Government land to be had for $1.25 an acre. He 
 had filed on it, and had put up a log cabin, and then he 
 had hastened back to get the rest of the family. They 
 had loaded the wagon full, and here they were, nearing 
 " home." 
 
 By all accounts the home was going to be a fine one. 
 Terry could see it all with his eyes shut, for his father 
 had described it again and again. There was a cold 
 clear spring just back of the cabin, and off yonder, cut- 
 ting through the land, a creek ; there was a large grove 
 of trees, in easy sight from the house ; there were acre 
 after acre of grassy prairie, a little rolling but mostly 
 flat, and in the distance some hills. There was a new 
 town called Manhattan, south at the mouth of a river 
 called the Big Blue; and southwest there was a new 
 fort, named Fort Riley and garrisoned by United States 
 soldiers, to fight the Indians. But from the cabin there 
 was not a house in sight, and westward stretched a 
 
WESTWARD HO! 3 
 
 regular Indian country although Terry's father was 
 certain that the wild Indians would not bother the white 
 settlers who minded their own business. 
 
 Fun? Well, Terry rather expected a lot of fun, in 
 the new home. His father had killed a deer in the 
 timber by the creek, and every night turkeys flew there 
 to roost ! 
 
 At first the road from the Missouri River above 
 Kansas City had been lively with other settlers and 
 their wagons, outward bound, and with freighting out- 
 fits hauling enormous loads of supplies. For during 
 this year and near a half score years to come, ere the 
 railroads got through, the rolling country west from 
 the Missouri River, into Kansas and Nebraska, was 
 seamed by the prairie schooners of settler families 
 traveling forward to make their new homes, like the 
 Richards family were, and by the long trains of freight 
 wagons, distributing supplies to town and store and 
 fort. 
 
 The Indians yet seen by Terry in this Kansas Ter- 
 ritory had not amounted to much. They had been 
 tame Indians, living in cabins and tents on the reserva- 
 tions. First there were the Delawares, and next the 
 Pottawattamies Eastern Indians who had been moved 
 here by the Government. Some of them worked in the 
 fields, like white people ; but the majority appeared to 
 be lazy and dirty and shiftless, and spent their time 
 begging from the settlers' wagons. It did not seem 
 like the genuine Indian West until the reservations had 
 been left behind, and most of the wagons had dropped 
 off, and the road stretched on, toward the sunset, with 
 
4 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 no settlements in sight, the wolves barking at night, 
 and Terry driving the oxen alone except for his mother 
 and father and Shep. Now, Terry firmly believed, the 
 wild Indians might be encountered at almost any time. 
 
 When he wanted his oxen to turn to the right he 
 ordered: "Gee, Buck! Spot!" When he wanted 
 them to turn to the left he ordered: "Haw, Buck! 
 Spot ! " They were smart and knew what he meant. 
 It was easier than driving by lines. The whip was one 
 that he and his father had made from a hickory stock 
 about four feet long and a braided buckskin lash about 
 the same length; but the whip was only a threat, for 
 the oxen were not to be struck except when they balked 
 or acted up. This was very seldom. They were will- 
 ing pullers. How they could jerk the heavy wagon out 
 of a mudhole I 
 
 Another night's camp was drawing near. The sun 
 was low above the range of hills to the west, toward 
 which the narrow winding road, its black mud cut deep 
 by wagon tracks, gradually led. On either side was 
 the prairie, green with grass and spangled with early 
 flowers. Here the prairie wolves or coyotes yes, and 
 the big gray wolves, also prowled, waiting to feed 
 on the oxen and horses that died along the way. A 
 coyote crossed the road right ahead of the team. Shep's 
 back bristled ; he growled. 
 
 Terry's father trotted to the front, on the mare, to 
 pick out a camping spot. All the day the prairie 
 schooner of another settler on the march westward had 
 occasionally been sighted, before, as it toiled up grade 
 and down, at three miles an hour; but Terry had not 
 
WESTWARD HO! 5 
 
 been able to catch it, for Buck and Spot were not to be 
 hurried. Three miles an hour, or twenty miles a day, 
 was enough, and they knew it. Now from the crest of 
 a little rise Terry saw that the other wagon had halted, 
 to make camp ; and he was glad. Probably his father 
 would decide to camp at the same place, and they would 
 meet these people. That was one of the excitements of 
 the trip: camping in company with fellow emigrants 
 and learning all about them where they came from 
 and where they were going, and so forth and so forth. 
 
 The other wagon had been halted at one side of the 
 road, in a shallow draw. By the time that the Richards' 
 outfit arrived, the oxen had been unyoked, a fire started, 
 and a tent was being put up. The campers were a man 
 and woman and two children. Yes, hurrah! A boy 
 about Terry's age, and a little girl. It would be fun 
 to have another boy around, for a while, with whom to 
 swap yarns of the trail. 
 
 " How are you? " greeted Terry's father, checking 
 the old mare at the camp, while driving the oxen 
 Terry followed him in. " Is there room for another 
 party?" 
 
 " Howdy, howdy," heartily responded the man, paus- 
 ing in the job of erecting the tent. Terry and the boy 
 exchanged stares, sizing one another up. " Plenty of 
 room. 'Light and unhitch. It's powerful lonesome in 
 these parts, at night, and we're glad of your company." 
 
 He was a full-bearded, pleasant faced man, in 
 costume much like that of Terry's father : felt hat and 
 flannel shirt, and trousers tucked into heavy cowhide 
 boots. The boy was wiry and snapping black-eyed, 
 
6 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 and wore a huge pistol thrust through a leather strap 
 around his waist. Against the wagon was leaning a 
 long-barreled muzzle-loading rifle. Still, the strangers 
 were not any better fixed than they, Terry decided ; for 
 his father had a Sharpe's rifle, and Colt's revolver too, 
 and Terry carried in his pocket a new folding knife 
 with blade of six inches. And in the wagon was a 
 shot-gun. 
 
 " All right, Terry. Turn aside, off the road," bade 
 his father. 
 
 "Buck! Spot! Gee! Gee with you! Hep! Hep! 
 Whoa-oa ! Now whoa ! " And as skillfully as the best 
 Terry landed the lumbering wagon in a good location 
 off the trail. No black-eyed boy could beat that ! 
 
 " Yes, it's terrible lonesome, here on the prairie at 
 night," spoke the woman, from the fire, as Mrs. 
 Richards climbed out. ' 'Specially when the wolves 
 howl, or when the wind gets to blowing. Come over 
 and make your fire next to ours. There's plenty fuel. 
 Our boy'll show yours." 
 
 That sounded neighborly indeed. The first thing to 
 do was to tie the mare to a wagon wheel. While the 
 oxen were unyoked and turned out to grass and water 
 Mrs. Richards sorted her cooking things from the 
 wagon. Then while his father hauled forth the tent 
 and bedding, Terry was supposed to gather fuel and 
 start the fire. Then the tent was to be put up, and the 
 bedding laid inside. And then Terry must bring water 
 for his mother, and lead the mare to water and picket 
 her out. And then he must help his mother at the fire, 
 while his father made things shipshape in the tent and 
 
WESTWARD HO! 7 
 
 the wagon, for the night. This was the regular routine. 
 But before the oxen had been unyoked the black-eyed 
 boy raised a shout. 
 
 " Indians ! I see some Injuns coming ! " 
 
 Sure enough, down the trail, out of the west, a file 
 of horsemen were approaching. They were wrapped 
 in blankets and buffalo robes, and bore lances which 
 floated tufts like plumes. Yes, they were Indians. 
 There must have been twenty of them. Shep seemed 
 to smell them, for he growled. The old mare pricked 
 her ears, gazing. 
 
 "You don't think they're wild Indians, do you?" 
 quavered the woman at the fire. 
 
 " Oh, no, no," promptly answered Terry's father. 
 " They look like reservation Indians, back from a hunt, 
 probably." 
 
 " Then they won't bother us, I reckon," added the 
 other man. 
 
 " They'd better not," swaggered the black-eyed boy, 
 " unless they want to lose their scalps. See my pistol ? " 
 he invited, of Terry. 
 
 " George ! You stay right here and let them alone," 
 ordered his mother. 
 
 George winked at Terry, and grinned. 
 
 " I was just fooling," he said. " I won't hurt 'em. 
 But I'm not afraid of 'em, anyhow." Terry was not 
 certain whether George was in earnest or was pretend- 
 ing. A boy with such black eyes was likely to be pretty 
 spunky. 
 
 The Indians did not continue on down to the wagons. 
 They stopped on the farther side of the creek that cut 
 the trail, and appeared to be making camp there. 
 
8 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Will you get me some wood now, Terry, please? " 
 reminded his mother. 
 
 " I'll show you where there's a lot of it, dry and I 
 know where some buffalo chips are, too," volunteered 
 the black-eyed boy. " Bring your gunny-sack and ax." 
 
 So fishing out a gunny-sack and grabbing the ax, 
 Terry followed him, away from the camp and up the 
 shallow draw. 
 
 "My name's George Stanton; what's yours?" de- 
 manded the black-eyed boy. 
 
 " Terry Richards. We're from Ohio. Where are 
 you from?" 
 
 " Indiana. We're going on out west, clear into the 
 Indian country." 
 
 " So are we," informed Terry. 
 
 "How far?" 
 
 " Beyond the Big Blue River. My father's filed on 
 1 60 acres." 
 
 " That's where we're going, too," asserted George. 
 " But we're going to Fort Riley first, to 'tend to some 
 business. Where's your land located ? " 
 
 Terry was hazy as to this, because he never had 
 been there; and he soon found that George did not 
 know much more. However, they agreed that maybe 
 they would live near enough to one another so that they 
 could have fun together. 
 
 " Is that your dog? " queried George. " What's his 
 name?" 
 
 " Shep. He'll tackle anything, too. He keeps watch 
 nights." 
 
 " We don't need a dog. I've got my big pistol," 
 answered George. " Ma's afraid of it. Are you? " 
 
WESTWARD HO! 9 
 
 " Naw," laughed Terry. " Fve shot guns. I've shot 
 my father's." 
 
 " Well, you can't shoot this one, and neither can any- 
 body else. 'Cause why ? 'Cause it won't shoot. See ? 
 It's busted." 
 
 And so it was " busted." It had a hammer whittled 
 from wood and painted black. But it looked like a 
 shooter. 
 
 " There's a log you can chop at," directed George, 
 briskly. " That's where we got our dry wood. Give 
 me your sack and I'll fill it with buffalo chips. I found 
 a lot of 'em, in a hollow yonder among some willows 
 where buffalo have been standing out of the flies." 
 
 Away he went, with the sack. Terry chopped, and 
 presently George came back, the sack bulging with 
 buffalo chips which were the dried refuse deposited 
 by buffalo. These chips burned hot, holding the fire 
 and making no smoke. Buffalo chips were better than 
 wood, for cooking. 
 
 In the twilight under a golden sky they trudged to 
 the camp, lugging their fuel. Shep growled and 
 bristled, for a couple of the Indians had ridden in, to 
 visit. One was a middle-aged man, wearing an eagle's 
 feather in his straight black hair. He had a square, 
 dark, wrinkled face and just the suspicion of a coarse 
 scraggly moustache ; his face was not at all unpleasing, 
 although rather stern. The other Indian was much 
 younger, handsome and slender. They were armed 
 with rifles. 
 
 " I guess they're Delawares," whispered George. 
 " Say did you ever read * Last of the Mohicans,' by 
 Cooper?" 
 
io THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 "Of course," replied Terry, dumping his wood 
 beside the little fire that had already been started from 
 twigs and scraps. But before he could say more, his 
 father called. 
 
 " Take the old mare down to water, Terry, and then 
 we'll stake her out." 
 
 " You'll have to water her at the creek," put in 
 George, " so as not to roil the spring. The creek's near 
 the Injuns, but we don't care." 
 
 " Say ' Indians/ not * Injuns/ George," corrected his 
 mother. " And don't you interfere with them, but come 
 right back." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," answered George. " Delawares are 
 all right ; they're friends of the whites," he asserted, to 
 Terry, as they started. But now his little sister ran 
 after. 
 
 "I'm going, too," she cried. 
 
 "Virginia!" cautioned her mother who certainly 
 seemed to have her hands full keeping track of the 
 family. " You be careful, and stay close to brother." 
 
 " Yes, 'm," gaily piped Virginia. " My name's 
 Virgie ; what's yours ? " she announced, to Terry, as 
 she took hold of her brother's hand. 
 
 Terry told her. She was a fair little girl, the very 
 opposite of George in spite of her tan. She wore a red- 
 and-white checked calico frock, and was bare-footed 
 and bare-headed. 
 
 " And I'm seven going on eight," she added, proudly. 
 
 " Remember Uncas and Chingachgook, in * Last of 
 the Mohicans ' ? " queried George, of Terry, as they 
 proceeded, Terry leading the old mare, her colt ambling 
 
WESTWARD HO! II 
 
 behind. "They were same as Delawares. Jiminy, 
 wasn't that a fine book, though ? I've read it six times. 
 It's funny to have the Delawares in Kansas. Wonder 
 if they didn't hate to be moved." 
 
 " Well, they got crowded out by the whites, back 
 East," replied Terry. " My father says all the tame 
 Indians ought to be put in an Indian Territory by them- 
 selves, where they can make their own laws and not be 
 bothered by the whites." 
 
 " They can't mix with the wild Indians, of the 
 plains," declared George. " The plains Indians won't 
 have 'em. The plains Indians can lick 'em, too, mostly 
 except the Delawares. My father says a Delaware 
 can lick a Cheyenne any day ; but these Pottawattamies 
 and Kaws and Osages aren't much good. I'd like to see 
 a Cheyenne or a Sioux a regular wild one who lives 
 out in the plains or mountains." 
 
 " We may see more than we want to, if they come 
 raiding some day," reminded Terry. 
 
 " I wouldn't be afraid, if my pistol was fixed," boldly 
 claimed George. 
 
 They had reached the creek a little below the Indian 
 camp on the opposite side. The camp was a lively 
 place. Half a dozen lodges of canvas and hide had 
 been erected; Indian women were cooking with pots 
 over fires, a few children were running about playing, 
 the men were lounging here and there, and ponies were 
 grazing. Some of the Indians wore a civilized costume : 
 the women in torn calico, the men in old trousers and 
 shirts and hats. For the Delawares, like the Pottawat- 
 tamies and Kaws and Kickapoos and others of the 
 
12 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Kansas tame Indians were being taught by agents and 
 schools to live as much as possible like white people. 
 
 Terry hauled the snorting old mare to the water's 
 edge, and waited for her to drink. He and George and 
 Virgie stared across at the camp. The next thing they 
 knew, the mare gave an extra loud snort, Shep growled 
 fiercely and slunk against his master's legs, and a voice 
 said gutturally : 
 
 "Umph! How much?" 
 
 A tremendously ugly Indian stood beside them, his 
 hand, with long dirty nails, outstretched to grasp the 
 mare's lead-rope. He did not look at all like the 
 Delawares or Pottawattamies whom Terry had seen. 
 His black hair was cut straight across the front, in a 
 bang; one half was braided, but the other half hung 
 only to his ear. His face was painted and pock pitted ; 
 and his breath smelled strongly of liquor. 
 
 "How much ?" 
 
 Terry jumped, snatching the rope away from the 
 hand. 
 
 " No," he stammered, shaking his head. 
 
 "You trade. Me big Injun. How much?" And 
 the pock-faced Indian lurched toward him again. 
 
 "No!" repeated Terry. "I won't sell, or trade, 
 either." 
 
 " Humph ! You no trade, mebbe I take," threatened 
 the Indian, with a scowl. " Mebbe I kill, huh ? White 
 boy no trade, white boy die; Injun take pony, little 
 pony, scalp, all." And with surprising quickness he 
 made a spring at Terry and the rope. 
 
 Terry leaped backward ; and at the same instant the 
 
WESTWARD HO! 13 
 
 old mare flung up her head with a snort, jerking the 
 rope from Terry's hand and sending him sprawling. 
 Away galloped the mare, back for the wagons. Rolling 
 over and over, Terry was aware that the ugly Indian 
 had made a grab for the colt as it wheeled past him 
 and Terry kept on rolling for fear that the Indian was 
 to make a grab for him, next. 
 
 But he heard George order, shrilly : 
 
 " Halt ! Bang ! You halt, you big fool ! " 
 
 Picking himself up, Terry saw the Indian, swaying 
 land blinking, held by the muzzle of George's dragoon 
 pistol. 
 
 "You move, I shoot bang! Kill Injun," in- 
 structed George, planted sturdily, and scowling. " Hurt 
 you, Terry? " 
 
 " No," declared Terry. " And he didn't get the mare 
 or colt. Who is he?" 
 
 " He almost got you, though," asserted George. 
 " You follow the horses while I keep him covered." 
 And " Gwan home with you," ordered George, to the 
 Indian. 
 
 Suddenly the Indian, who had been steadily glaring, 
 his black eyes like two narrow coals, made another 
 spring, as swift as any panther ; was upon George in a 
 jiffy, wrenched the pistol from his grasp, and seized 
 him by the shoulder. George let out one horrified yelp, 
 and twisted in vain. 
 
 " Uh ! " grunted the big Indian. " Pistol no shoot. 
 Cut off white boy's head now." And holding George 
 he swayed about while tucking the pistol into his 
 blanket as if preparatory to drawing his scalping-knife. 
 
14 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 This may have been an Indian joke, but it was no 
 joke to George or Terry no, nor to little Virgie. Her 
 voice uplifted in a shrill wail of anger and dismay; and 
 bravely clinging to the Indian's blanket she pummeled 
 him as hard as she could, demanding : 
 
 " You let my brother go ! Let him go, quick ! Don't 
 you dare hurt him." 
 
 Terry was uncertain, just for a moment, whether to 
 dive and light on the Indian, and help George that way, 
 or whether first to yell for stronger help ; when, with a 
 wriggle and a furious volley of kicks, by aid of Virgie, 
 George had almost upset the Indian, had peeled out of 
 his jacket, and picking up Virgie was legging it down 
 the road. 
 
 Away ran George, and after him lunged the Indian, 
 faster. 
 
 " Run ! " cried Terry, with a cheer. Then with sud- 
 den thought he added : " Sick, Shep ! Sick him ! 
 Take him, boy ! " 
 
 That was encouragement enough for Shep. He 
 knew. He had been watching the struggle, his ears 
 pricked. With eager whine forth he darted. In a few 
 more strides the big Indian would have had George, 
 and Virgie too, but Shep was there like an arrow. 
 Terry had scarcely run at all, following the Indian and 
 Shep, when Shep launched for the Indian's legs, and 
 through the flapping blanket had sunk his teeth into 
 the bare sinewy calf beneath. 
 
 Shep hung hard ; down pitched the Indian, to hands 
 and knees ; Shep nimbly leaped aside ; up staggered the 
 Indian, blazing mad, and in response to Shep's snarling 
 teeth out came the Indian's rusty knife. 
 
WESTWARD HO! 15 
 
 "Shep!" called Terry, in alarm, running on to 
 rescue in earnest. 
 
 But rushing past him somebody interrupted. There 
 was the thud of another Indian figure, a grunt and a 
 powerful swing of an arm, and as flat as a pancake was 
 knocked the first Indian, to lie stunned and motionless. 
 
 " Humph ! " panted the elder of the two Delawares 
 whom Terry had seen at the wagons for he it was. 
 " Bad Injun. Him drunk Kiowa. No good." 
 
 He still carried his rifle, but he had not used it. His 
 fist had been enough. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 INDIAN FRIENDS 
 
 THAT was a sudden and a very welcome interruption. 
 
 " Much obliged," panted Terry, arriving, to the 
 Delaware. 
 
 " Heap dog," praised the Delaware, eying Shep, 
 who was slinking up, hair bristling, nose outstretched, 
 to sniff at his late foe. The Delaware stooped and 
 picked up George's pistol, which had fallen from the 
 Kiowa's blanket folds. " Pistol no good," he grunted. 
 " Dog better. How much ? " 
 
 " For what? " asked Terry. 
 
 "Dog. Trade?" 
 
 " You couldn't buy that dog for ten thousand dol- 
 lars," grinned Terry. " Heap dog. No sell him." 
 
 " He hit him an awful swat, didn't he ! " wheezed 
 George, who had turned at Shep's snarling charge, 
 and had seen what had followed. " But Shep is what 
 saved me, I guess. If it hadn't been for Shep that 
 Injun'd have got me. Wonder what he'd have done. 
 He isn't a Delaware." And" Did you kill him? " he 
 asked, of the Delaware. 
 
 " No hurt much," grunted the chief, stirring the 
 prostrate figure rudely with his moccasined toe. " Fist 
 good 'nough for Kiowa. Get alive soon. No be drunk 
 then." 
 
 16 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 17 
 
 "Cracky! That's a Kiowa, he says," exclaimed 
 George. " They're bad Injuns, regular wild ones, of 
 the Southwest plains." 
 
 They gazed down in some awe at this " regular 
 wild Injun " who lying there sprawled, with blood- 
 shot eyes half open and face pock pitted, did not present 
 a very inspiring appearance. 
 
 Little Virgie, frightened, clung to her brother's 
 trousers, and gazed, too. 
 
 " I don't like him," she whispered. 
 
 The other Delaware, who was the young one, only a 
 little older than Terry or George, came in, bringing 
 George's coat. He spoke better English than the chief. 
 
 " You from that camp," he said. " This my uncle 
 Fall Leaf him big chief. Me name General Jackson. 
 What name you ? " 
 
 " My name's Terry Richards and his is George 
 Stanton," answered Terry. 
 
 "She got 'um name?" queried General Jackson, 
 pointing to Virgie. 
 
 " That's his sister; her name's Virgie Stanton." 
 
 " He got 'um name ? " pursued General Jackson, 
 pointing at Shep. 
 
 " Yes. His name's Shep. He's my dog." 
 
 "Good dog. Heap good dog. SeH'um? No?" 
 
 " Not on your life," asserted Terry, stanchly. 
 
 " That's my pistol, too," hinted George. 
 
 " Good. No shoot. Use fist on Kiowa," agreed 
 General Jackson. 
 
 Fall Leaf handed back the pistol to George, with a 
 shrug of the shoulders which indicated that he did not 
 think much of such a weapon. 
 
18 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Whiskey bad; make Injun foolish," spoke General 
 Jackson. " When Kiowa wake up now, he forget/' 
 
 "What's he doing? Visiting you folks?" asked 
 George. 
 
 " Yes. Make visit ; eat, drink ; go home quick." 
 
 "Where does he live?" 
 
 " 'Way off ; no Delaware ; Kiowa," and General 
 Jackson pointed to the southwest. "Him name 
 Thunder Horse. Bah!" 
 
 " I'm glad he's not a Delaware," said George, to 
 Terry. 
 
 Fall Leaf grunted, and held out his hand. 
 
 " Good-by," he bade. " Come 'gain, mebbe. Heap 
 dog," for he seemed to have a great admiration for 
 Shep. " Fight 'urn Injun in leg ! " And he and General 
 Jackson laughed. 
 
 They all shook hands, except little Virgie, who 
 shrank and declined. 
 
 " Good-by," said the boys. 
 
 "Where you go?" 
 
 " Out beyond the Big Blue." 
 
 " Make 'um home ? " queried Fall Leaf. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Delaware been hunting. Next time go, mebbe 
 see you." 
 
 " All right. Stop in, any time," they replied. 
 
 Leading Virgie, the boys proceeded down the trail, 
 to camp. With a final growl at the prostrate Kiowa, 
 as if saying: "We fixed you!" Shep trotted after. 
 The two Delawares went back to their ponies, leaving 
 the Kiowa lying. Glancing behind them, the boys saw 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 19 
 
 him presently move, and sit up, and rubbing his head 
 stagger to his feet. 
 
 " Wonder if he'll hold a grudge against us and try to 
 hurt us, sometime," remarked Terry. " I'd hate to 
 have him after us again." 
 
 " Aw, they said he was drunk and wouldn't remem- 
 ber," reminded George. " But I'm going to get this 
 pistol mended and be ready for him next time." 
 
 But the Kiowa went reeling for his own camp. 
 However, this was not the last of that Kiowa; not by 
 any means. 
 
 The mare and her colt already had arrived at the 
 camp the mare with her lead-rope dragging. Nobody 
 had seen the fracas, but notified by the mare, who had 
 come so unceremoniously, Mr. Richards and Mr. 
 Stanton both had been looking anxiously, puzzled at 
 the group around the stunned Kiowa. 
 
 "What's the matter at the creek?" demanded 
 Terry's father, of him. But little Virgie ran forward 
 excitedly. 
 
 " A big bad Indian took George's pistol and chased 
 him and that dog bit him right in the leg and then 
 another Indian knocked him over and killed him dead," 
 she announced, with so many " him's " that nobody 
 could understand what she was driving at. 
 
 " How's that ? " asked Mr. Stanton, sharply. " Who 
 chased whom and who knocked whom over? " 
 
 " We were watering the horses and an Indian wanted 
 to buy them, and when I wouldn't sell he chased us. 
 He wasn't afraid of George's pistol so I sicked Shep 
 to tackle him " began Terry. 
 
20 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " And Shep stopped him or he'd have got me, but 
 the Delaware chief knocked him flat. Can't I have that 
 pistol fixed ? " finished George. 
 
 " I declare ! " exclaimed both mothers. 
 
 " Anybody hurt? " queried Mr. Richards. 
 
 " Nobody but the Kiowa. He was drunk, anyhow," 
 answered Terry. " He's not hurt much, though. His 
 name is Thunder Horse." 
 
 " He's a wild Injun a regular wild one, pop," in- 
 formed George. " But the Delaware chief you ought 
 to have seen how he knocked him. Said he used his 
 fist on Kiowas, didn't need to shoot 'em. He's Fall 
 Leaf and the other Delaware is General Jackson." 
 
 "What's the Kiowa doing there, though?" asked 
 his father, keenly. " Any more of them? " 
 
 " Don't think so. He's visiting the Delawares. He'll 
 go home now. And we're going hunting with the 
 Delawares, as soon as we get settled; aren't we, 
 Terry!" 
 
 " Sure thing. They invited us," concurred Terry. 
 
 " I like Delawares ; don't like Kiowas," piped Virgie. 
 
 " No, nor does anybody else," agreed her father. 
 And her mother bade : 
 
 " Now, Virgie, you and George stay right here, and 
 don't you stir a step away from the wagons." 
 
 " But, ma ! " objected George, much disgusted. 
 " There isn't going to be any massacre. Those Injuns 
 are all friendly, except the one Kiowa, and who's afraid 
 of him! Wait till I get my pistol fixed! " 
 
 Anyway, that had been an adventure, and would 
 give lots to talk about. However, Terry, too, had to 
 stay close and help his mother at supper. 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 21 
 
 " I'll be so glad when I have a stove, again, to cook 
 on," sighed Mrs. Richards. 
 
 " That won't be long now," encouraged Mr. 
 Richards. " The first thing that Terry and I do when 
 we all get to the cabin will be to set up your stove and 
 you can begin to cook right away." 
 
 " And you'll be as ready for pie and such things 
 as I am to make them," she laughed. 
 
 " Pie ! " exclaimed Terry, his mouth watering. 
 "What kind, ma?" 
 
 " You wait and see." 
 
 " Best gather some of that dry wood, Terry, and 
 stow it under cover," directed his father. " The sky 
 looks like rain, and we don't want to cook breakfast 
 with wet wood." 
 
 Terry, his mouth still watering at the thought of pie, 
 tucked some breakfast wood in the wagon. 
 
 " They're having a big storm up yonder," called 
 Mr. Stanton, pointing to the northwest. 
 
 " Heap wet," added George, slyly, to Terry. " Big 
 Thunder chief on rampage." 
 
 " Maybe it's Thunder Horse," laughed Terry, refer- 
 ring to the Kiowa. 
 
 " Naw," grinned George. " He no like that kind 
 water ; heap like fire water. Hooh ! " 
 
 The horizon in the northwest certainly was black 
 and lowering, and by the time that supper was over, 
 the mutterings of thunder could be heard. Now it be- 
 hooved both wagon parties to make their camp secure 
 for a stormy night. Terry and his father drew the 
 wagon cover tight at the ends, and threw a rope across, 
 
22 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 which they staked fast and handed taut, to hold the 
 wagon firm. Sometimes these storms on the western 
 prairies blew tremendously. The tent was tautened, 
 too, and a ditch dug around the edges. 
 
 After Terry's mother had turned in, by light of a 
 lantern, Terry and his father followed. Already the 
 first scud of the approaching storm had dimmed the 
 stars, and when the lantern was extinguished the dark- 
 ness was pitchy. 
 
 Feeling like a real frontiersman, Terry snuggled in 
 his blanket and quilts. Coyotes were yapping, near at 
 hand; but he was not afraid of them. A wolf 
 sounded like a big fellow howled a foraging call, 
 as he prowled along the trail. This made Shep, curled 
 against the tent on the outside, growl indignantly. 
 Terry smiled. Good old Shep! He would guard the 
 camp. Now the wind began to blow pufftly, moaning 
 and whispering, as if it might be the spirits of Indians 
 exploring the white man's camp. Yes, the rain was 
 coming, sure. But who cared, if only it did not beat 
 through the canvas and wet them all. 
 
 The Stanton camp had been dark and silent, when 
 Terry had crawled in. George and Virgie evidently 
 were asleep ; and presently Terry drowsed off, while re- 
 viewing his tussle with the big Kiowa and thinking of 
 what he might have done, but didn't. Those were fine 
 Delawares, though Fall Leaf and young General 
 Jackson. It would be fun to hunt with them. Hee- 
 yaw and Terry yawned and began to dream. 
 
 He was awakened by the storm. The rain was 
 drumming fiercely on the canvas, lashing and slashing, 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 23 
 
 land the wind tugged until the whole tent strained and 
 creaked. The lightning flared white and dazzling, 
 while the world shook to the bellow of the thunder. 
 
 Shep was howling and whining, and scratching at 
 the flaps. Usually he crept under the wagon, but to- 
 night he was getting enough, early. By the lightning 
 Terry saw his father sit up, and get up, and open the 
 flaps a mite; instantly in squeezed Shep, whimpering 
 gladly, to shake himself, lick Terry's face, and cuddle 
 down in a corner. 
 
 " Why, Shep. Poor Shep," spoke Terry's mother. 
 "Goodness, what a storm! Does the tent leak, 
 Ralph?" 
 
 " No, but the ground does," replied Terry's father. 
 " The water's coming under the edges. The ditch 
 has over-flowed, I reckon." 
 
 " Jiminy ! I should say ! " anounced Terry, sud- 
 denly conscious that he was getting wet underneath 
 instead of on top. Yes, he was lying in a little puddle ! 
 Huh! 
 
 " Well, we'll have to take it," laughed his father. 
 "If you don't like it, Terry, you can go outside with 
 the lantern and dig the ditch deeper. But the storm 
 won't last long, at this rate. It's blowing great guns." 
 
 "You'd better move, Terry," called his mother 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I'd advise you to stay where you are," bade his 
 father. " You've warmed the puddle, and you're liable 
 to get into a fresh cold one." 
 
 " Guess I'll stay, then," safd Terry, sleepily. At any 
 rate, he was glad to be here instead of out with the 
 
24 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 cattle. And drawing up his feet, to curl closer, he 
 actually went to sleep again, to the tune of Shep's snor- 
 ing. 
 
 When he awakened, it was daylight; the sun was 
 shining, the storm was over with, and the puddle had 
 sunk into the sandy soil. He was almost dry. Now he 
 could tell George how he had slept in the water and it 
 hadn't hurt him ; his father was already outside, so was 
 Shep; and pulling on his trousers and boots, out he 
 went, too, to leave his mother to dress herself. 
 
 Everything looked fresh and bright. Over at the 
 other wagon George and his father were busy; and 
 Terry, washing his face in the tin basin, waved at 
 them. 
 
 " Did you get wet? " he called, to George. 
 
 "No, did you?" 
 
 " Not much. Slept in a puddle, is all. But it was 
 fun." 
 
 " I'd just as lief, too. Wonder if the Injuns got wet. 
 It would do that Kiowa good to be soaked a little." 
 
 " That's right," answered Terry, with a chuckle. 
 
 The fire was blazing, and the coffee-pot was on. 
 
 " Bring up the oxen, Terry," bade his father, " and 
 I'll be opening the wagon and tent and spreading things 
 to dry. We'll put the oxen to the wagon while break- 
 fast is cooking, so as to make an early start. We may 
 have difficulty crossing the river, after this rain." 
 
 Buck and Spot were peacefully grazing, not far dis- 
 tant ; their hides were washed clean by the night's del- 
 uge. The old mare and her colt also were busy get- 
 ting their breakfast, in a hurry as if they foresaw that 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 25 
 
 time was valuable. Terry grabbed up the big yoke, 
 where it leaned against the wagon-wheel ; slung it over 
 his shoulder, and thrusting his arm through the two 
 bows, started for Buck and Spot, across the wet and 
 sparkling prairie. 
 
 They saw him coming, of course, and stared ex- 
 pectantly, knowing that their day's work was about 
 to begin. 
 
 " Whoa, Spot ; whoa, now, old fellow," soothed 
 Terry. 
 
 He had been taught just how to do it, and he rather 
 hoped that George was watching. He laid one end of 
 the heavy yoke over Spot's burly neck, passed the half- 
 circle of the bow under, and thrusting the morticed 
 ends up through the holes in the yoke, slipped in the 
 pin, that held the bow to the yoke. Then he let the 
 yoke hang, while he drove Buck beside Spot, who 
 waited. Buck knew what was expected. He sidled 
 in, to Spot, until Terry could lift the yoke and lay the 
 other end on his neck, also, and adjust the bow. 
 
 Then all that remained to do was to drive them, a 
 pair, to the wagon, where his father was ready to help 
 him lift the tongue and insert it through the ring hang- 
 ing from the middle of the yoke. 
 
 The Stantons were hustling, too; and after break- 
 fast camp was broken, and the two wagons pulled out 
 together. 
 
 " We'll probably have to double up, at the ford," 
 shouted back Mr. Stanton, as he led out. 
 
 Virgie was riding in their wagon, with her mother. 
 Mr. Stanton drove the oxen, and George dropped back 
 to walk with Terry. 
 
26 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Terry cracked his whip. 
 
 " Buck ! Spot ! Hep with you. Gee ! Haw yip ! 
 Go on with you ! " 
 
 Into the muddy trail the wagon creaked, following 
 in the wake of the Stanton wagon. 
 
 "The Injuns haven't started yet; see?" remarked 
 George. " Guess they're eating breakfast. Wonder 
 if the big Kiowa'll remember us ? " 
 
 " I don't care if he does," stoutly replied Terry. 
 " Fall Leaf '11 tend to him. Get on. We'll have to ride, 
 crossing the creek." 
 
 Into the clear air was rising blue smoke from the 
 Indians' fires, around which squaws were busy cooking 
 breakfast, in iron pots. A number of the men were 
 lounging about, waiting; and the pony herd was graz- 
 ing out a little way. The wagon trail for the west 
 skirted an edge of the camp ; the Delaware dogs began 
 to bark, Shep growled and bristled in answer; and as 
 the Stanton wagon lumbered through the shallow creek 
 (which was running swift and muddy) and on up the 
 other bank, Fall Leaf himself rose, and held up his hand 
 as signal for it to stop. 
 
 So it did, at the camp; and so did the Richards' 
 wagon, close behind. 
 
 "Crickity! Wonder what's the matter," spoke 
 George, tumbling off, and hustling forward in his im- 
 portant way. Terry's father rode to where Fall Leaf 
 was speaking with Mr. Stanton. 
 
 Presently, while Terry and his mother curiously 
 waited on the seat, Mr. Richards came back. 
 
 " You're needed ahead, Mary," he spoke, to Terry's 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 27 
 
 mother, with a smile. " What have you got for sore 
 eyes?" 
 
 " That borax and rosewater lotion," said Terry's 
 mother, triumphantly. " Why ? " 
 
 " One of the Delaware women has bad eyes, the 
 chief says. Wants us white people to doctor her. The 
 Stantons haven't anything; and Mrs. Stanton seems 
 afraid of Indians, anyway. Do you want to try your 
 hand?" 
 
 " Why, of course," declared Terry's mother, turning 
 and reaching for what Terry called her " wonder 
 worker " which was a little box that held various 
 remedies for common ailments : a sort of " first aid to 
 the injured " kit. Out she nimbly hopped, and hastened 
 on with Terry's father. Terry could stand his curi- 
 osity no longer; and leaving Buck and Spot, carrying 
 his whip he followed close. 
 
 At sight of Mrs. Richards and her box, Fall Leaf 
 gave a satisfied grunt, and beckoning led the way to one 
 of the tipis. He opened the flaps, and motioned to 
 Mrs. Richards to enter. 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't go in there for the world! " called 
 Mrs. Stanton, from her wagon. 
 
 "Shucks! Ma's more afraid of Injuns than she 
 is of rattlesnakes," grunted George, to Terry "I 
 can't make her believe these are friendly Delawares." 
 And 
 
 " There's Thunder Horse ! " he whispered. " Don't 
 look too quick." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Over there. On our right." 
 
28 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Terry fairly felt two eyes burning into him, and 
 knew that they were the two eyes of the Kiowa. He 
 slowly turned his head aside. Yes, the Kiowa it was. 
 He was sitting on the ground, as if he might not be 
 very well; and how he was scowling! His pock- 
 marked ugly face was set in a fierce glare of hatred, 
 directed straight at the two boys. Evidently he did 
 remember, and evidently he was still very angry. 
 
 " I'm glad Shep didn't come," whispered Terry. 
 
 " What's he going to do now, I wonder," whispered 
 back George. " He'd better not come over here." 
 
 " And he'd better not tackle Shep, either," answered 
 Terry. 
 
 For the Kiowa, knowing that they saw him, rose un- 
 steadily to his feet, and scowling as before made a step 
 toward them. 
 
 However, luckily General Jackson interfered. May- 
 be he had been watching. At any rate, there was a 
 quick footfall, behind the boys, and a voice said : 
 
 "How do do?" 
 
 The young Delaware, General Jackson, extended his 
 hand, to shake. 
 
 They shook, and exchanged grins with him. 
 
 " Thunder Horse very mad," ventured Terry, with 
 jerk of his head at the Kiowa. 
 
 " No hurt you," replied General Jackson, quickly. 
 And he shouted angrily at the Kiowa, and motioned 
 with his hand. At this, Thunder Horse, with a parting 
 scowl, turned and lurched out of sight. 
 
 " Your mudder ? " queried General Jackson, of 
 Terry, pointing at the tipi within which Mrs. Richards 
 had disappeared. 
 
INDIAN FRIENDS 29 
 
 "Yes," said Terry. 
 
 " My mudder. She got bad eyes. Mebbe you 
 mudder she cure 'urn," proceeded General Jackson. 
 
 " She surely will," asserted Terry, loyally. " My 
 mother big medicine." 
 
 " Good," nodded the young Delaware. 
 
 Out of the tipi now came Mr. Richards and Mr. 
 Stanton, next came Terry's mother, and Fall Leaf 
 followed. 
 
 "Did you cure her?" asked Terry, anxiously, as 
 the party approached, on the way to the wagons again. 
 
 His mother smiled and nodded brightly. 
 
 " It did her lots of good, anyway. I left her some 
 of the lotion, to use. The poor thing! She could 
 scarcely see, because of sties." 
 
 Terry knew exactly how pleased his mother was; 
 iio thing tickled her more than to " doctor " somebody. 
 And the chief seemed pleased, too, for he shook hands 
 all around again, and bid the party good-by with many 
 a friendly wave. 
 
 " Well, we've made friends of those Delawares, at 
 least, Mary," remarked Terry's father, as the wagon 
 started on. " And they may be friends in need, some 
 day." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 
 
 THE road was sticky, in places, but the day was 
 glorious; and about mid-morning they came in sight 
 of a line of timber, crossing the way before. 
 
 "There's the Big Blue," called Terry's father. 
 " Now we'll see if we can cross it." And on the mare 
 he loped ahead, to reconnoiter. 
 
 He was waiting when the wagons drew up. The 
 road dipped into the hither shallows, disappeared, and 
 emerged again on the farther bank, to continue across 
 the rolling prairie to the other side of the broad valley. 
 But between the two banks rolled a heavy muddy tide, 
 swelled by the night's rain. 
 
 Mr. Stanton rode to consult with Mr. Richards; 
 Mrs. Stanton and Terry's mother peered qut from the 
 wagon hoods, and with George and Virgie (who was 
 gaily playing along on foot, carrying a great rag doll) 
 Terry left his oxen and trudged to join in the council. 
 
 " Jiminy ! She's a-booming, isn't she ! " exclaimed 
 George, excited, as the river unfolded close at hand. 
 " Can you swim ? I can." 
 
 " Sure," said Terry. 
 
 " I can't," piped Virgie, beginning to weep. " And 
 mamma can't, either. Do we have to stay here ? " 
 
 30 
 
ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 31 
 
 " No," answered George. " Don't cry. Shep can 
 swim and we'll put you on his back and he'll take you 
 right across ; won't he, Terry ! " 
 
 " Of course," assured Terry. 
 
 " And mamma, too ? " 
 
 " You bet. She can ride on one of the oxen." 
 
 This pleased Virgie, and she had high hopes again. 
 
 The crossing did look rather formidable. The 
 current ran swirling and dark ; and here were the two 
 high, heavy wagons to be hauled through. Terry's 
 father rode in, on the mare, until the water was above 
 his knees; he pushed on a little further, until well out 
 toward the middle. The water lapped half way up his 
 thighs. The colt gazed after and whinnied uneasily, 
 prancing along the water's edge. Mr. Richards forced 
 the old mare until it seemed that she was swimming; 
 but just as Terry gave a gasp of alarm and his mother 
 uttered a little cry, the mare began to climb higher and 
 higher, and streaming with the water she bore him out 
 and clambered with him safely up the opposite bank. 
 He waved his hand triumphantly, and turned back, 
 coming in the same manner that he went. 
 
 " It's a hard bottom," he called, as he arrived in the 
 shallows again. " We can make it but we'll have to 
 double up." 
 
 " We'd better put a rope on, hadn't we? " suggested 
 Mr. Stanton. " And pay out with it so as to hold the 
 wagons up-stream." 
 
 " Yes, sir. If you'll get out your rope we'll join 
 the two. Where's our rope, Terry ? The large one." 
 
 Terry fished out from the wagon the stout rope that 
 
32 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 they carried for emergencies (it was the same with 
 which they had guyed the wagon down, for the storm), 
 Mr. Stanton had fished out his, and now knotted the 
 two together. 
 
 " You're ahead. We'll send you over first," pro- 
 posed Mr. Richards, to him. " Bring up Buck and 
 Spot, and the chain, Terry." 
 
 " We have a chain," said Mr. Stanton. " I'll get 
 it." 
 
 Buck and Spot were uncoupled from the Richards 
 wagon, and Terry drove them forward, to where Mr. 
 Stanton was waiting, in front of his own span, with 
 the heavy ox chain in his hand. The chain was hooked 
 to Buck and Spot's yoke, and stretched back between 
 them, to be hooked by the other end to the yoke of the 
 Stanton span. 
 
 Terry's father meanwhile had fastened an end of 
 the rope to the rear axle of the wagon, and was carrying 
 the other end to a tree which stood on the bank, con- 
 veniently just above the ford. 
 
 " How are your oxen ? Pretty steady ? " queried Mr. 
 Stanton. 
 
 " Steady as a rock, sir," assured Mr. Richards. 
 " I'll ride the mare over, as a toll for them. They'll 
 follow. The boys can pay out the rope, if you'll do 
 the driving. Do you want to sort your load? The 
 bottom things are liable to get wet ? " 
 
 " No, sir. We travel ready for this kind of thing. 
 Perishable stuff on top." 
 
 " All right. Then go ahead. Now, you two boys 
 have got to tend to the rope. Pay out around the tree, 
 
ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 33 
 
 as we go, and keep the rope just taut enough to hold 
 the wagon across-current and keep it from slewing." 
 
 " We will. Come on, George," bade Terry. 
 
 " Climb in, Virgie," directed her father ; and he lifted 
 her beside her mother, and climbed aboard himself, 
 whip in hand. The seat was roomy enough for the 
 three. 
 
 Mr. Richards rode into the river, on the mare. 
 
 "Now! Yip! Yip with you! Buck! Spot! 
 Bonny ! " shouted Mr. Stanton, and his lash cracked. 
 
 The four oxen obediently strained, with heads low. 
 Creaking, for the water's edge rolled the wagon. 
 
 " Give the rope slack until we're well out," shouted 
 back Mr. Richards, to Terry and George. 
 
 Without hesitating, Buck and Spot splashed into the 
 water; after them plashed Bonny and Ned, the Stan- 
 ton oxen. All four snorted and grunted a bit, as the 
 water reached their bellies, but they kept on, to the en- 
 couragement of Mr. Stanton's voice and cracking lash. 
 They had forded rivers before this, of course, on 
 the trail out from the Missouri ; but none so rapid and 
 muddy. 
 
 The wagon settled deeper, to the hubs, and over, and 
 now the current clutched at the straining oxen's flanks. 
 Their eyes bulged, and as they surged forward they 
 snorted and blew the spray. Mr. Stanton shouted lust- 
 ily; for if the wagon stopped its tires might sink into 
 some soft spot and stick fast. With the water up to 
 the wagon-box, the wagon began to slew down-stream. 
 
 The slack of the rope straightened. Terry's father 
 looked anxiously behind, as if in signal, and also to 
 watch the oxen and wagon. 
 
34 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Now ! Hold hard, and pay out, George," uttered 
 Terry, with grip on the rope, beyond the tree. 
 
 The rope had been wound twice around, for friction. 
 The tree trunk was worn smooth, as if it had been used 
 as an anchor, before. Braced, and holding hard, the 
 two boys let the rope slip foot by foot as the wagon pro- 
 ceeded. The current dragged at the rope, bending it 
 in a curve where it entered the water; and once in a 
 while it whipped almost free when the wagon gave a 
 jump forward. 
 
 " Easy with her," grunted George. 
 
 " Easy," responded Terry, likewise grunting with 
 the strain and care. " She isn't stuck, is she ? " 
 
 In mid-stream the wagon seemed to hang for a mo- 
 ment; the water was well up against the box, tugging 
 to swing the wagon down with the current, and the cur- 
 rent itself eddied high against the oxen's sides, even 
 washing their backs. 
 
 "Yip! Buck! Bonny! Yip! Out with you!" 
 shouted Mr. Stanton ; and his lash hissed over the blow- 
 ing, panting team. 
 
 Were they swimming? Would they make it? 
 George cried excitedly, answering the question. 
 
 " They're pulling out ! Hooray ! " 
 
 "Hooray!" cheered Terry. And the rope slipped 
 another few turns. 
 
 The old mare, bearing Mr. Richards, who twisted 
 in his saddle to look behind him, was climbing higher; 
 and following close, Buck and Spot and next Bonny 
 and Ned, also climbed higher, for the water began to 
 recede down their wet hides. Then the wagon 
 
ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 35 
 
 emerged, little by little, until at sign of lifted hand from 
 Terry's father it halted. He rode around and cast off 
 the rope from the rear axle. The crossing had been 
 accomplished. Good ! 
 
 Plashing through the shallows, the dripping wagon 
 and oxen and Mr. Richards emerged upon the bank and 
 proceeded on, up the trail, until they might halt again, 
 in safety. Little Virgie peered around the hood and 
 waved her rag doll at the two boys. 
 
 But no time was to be wasted in bragging. Terry's 
 father and George's hastened to unhook the oxen, and 
 turn them about and start them back for the Richards' 
 wagon. Now Mr. Richards led the way, as before ; and 
 wading in to his waist, Mr. Stanton urged the oxen 
 ahead. He stood ready to wade further, if necessary; 
 but the four oxen continued obediently, with noses out- 
 pointed for the opposite shore. 
 
 " Haul the rope in, boys," called Mr. Richards, " so 
 we can use it on this other wagon." 
 
 " Terry," he said, when the team had been put to 
 the wagon, and the rope attached as before, " you can 
 do the driving, this time. George and I'll stay over 
 here, to manage the rope, and if you get in trouble I'll 
 ride out at once and help you. But you'll have no 
 trouble. Just keep the team headed for that dead tree, 
 and you'll land where you belong. It's hard bottom, if 
 you keep the ford. You can do it, can't you? " 
 
 " Of course," asserted Terry. 
 
 " I can do it," proposed George, eagerly. " I know 
 how to drive. Let me drive and he can stay with the 
 rope." 
 
36 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " No, siree," stoutly protested Terry. " That's my 
 job." And for fear that it might be taken from him he 
 hustled for the wagon and climbed aboard. Drive 
 across ? Certainly he would ! 
 
 " How'll / get over? " he heard George appeal, as if 
 struck with the sudden thought. 
 
 " I'll carry you on the mare," answered Mr. Rich- 
 ards. 
 
 " Well, I could swim, anyhow," bluffed George, con- 
 fidently. 
 
 " Go ahead, Terry," bade his father. 
 
 " Now, Terry ! don't you get me wet ! " laughed his 
 mother, a little anxiously nevertheless. 
 
 "Buck! Spot! Ned! Hep! Haw! Hep with 
 you!" 
 
 The oxen required no guidance from the mare. 
 They forged right along, and with occasional " Haw ! " 
 and crack of whip Terry kept them headed slightly up, 
 lining for the dead tree. It was great fun, to be perched 
 here on the seat, taking his mother and the wagon 
 across. It was a little ticklish, too, as the water rose 
 higher, and the wagon swayed, and the oxen blew 
 spray and snorted, and there in mid-stream the outfit 
 seemed to stick, just for a moment. 
 
 " Spot ! What's the matter with yuh ! Yip, now ! 
 Yip! Buck! Bonny! Ned! Hi! " exhorted Terry; 
 and on lurched the wagon, through the deepest place 
 and the danger was past. 
 
 Virgie, on the bank before, was waving her doll and 
 cheering; and Mr. Stanton stood prepared to rush to 
 the rescue. But now the water was lessening in depth ; 
 
ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 37 
 
 Buck and Spot were clambering gladly ever higher; 
 and so were Bonny and Ned ; and the trail was only a 
 few wagon-lengths' distant. They made it, as easy as 
 pie dragging the rope which Mr. Richards and George 
 had let go. 
 
 Through the ford followed the old mare, bearing 
 double George, gaily riding behind the saddle, cling- 
 ing fast to Terry's father. 
 
 " You almost got stuck, didn't you ? " accused 
 George, breathlessly. " Looked like it." 
 
 " No, I didn't/' denied Terry. " We didn't stop 
 once. Shucks. 'Twasn't anything at all." 
 
 " There comes the colt," laughed Mr. Stanton, point- 
 ing. 
 
 Sure enough ; finding himself abandoned, the frantic 
 colt had at last plunged in, and wading and swimming, 
 while his mother whinnied shrill encouragement, was 
 landed down stream. Much rejoiced, he galloped to his 
 mother for congratulations. 
 
 Well done, everybody! 
 
 " I wasn't afraid ! I wasn't a bit afraid," declared 
 Virgie, capering about. " I liked it." 
 
 " Do you want to overhaul the things and see what 
 got wet in the bottom of the wagon?" asked Mr. 
 Richards, of Terry's mother. 
 
 " No, I don't think so. We ought to go on, oughtn't 
 we ? Isn't there another river to cross ? " 
 
 " Yes. Wildcat Creek, at what they call the upper 
 ford." 
 
 " You're going up that way, are you ? " remarked 
 Mr. Stanton, while he hooked his oxen again, to his own 
 
38 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 wagon. " Well, I've got to go to Fort Riley, by the 
 main road." 
 
 The main road bore off to the southward, presently ; 
 and here the two wagon outfits parted. 
 
 " I'll see you on the ranch, Terry," promised George. 
 " We'll be only five or ten miles from you, pop says. 
 Wait for me before you go hunting much." 
 
 " I will," engaged Terry. " Good-by. Good-by 
 Virgie." 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 And with parting waves the two wagons separated. 
 The Stantons followed the main road southward, for 
 the Kansas River, and for Fort Riley on west; the 
 Richards' wagon turned to the north, more, and 
 launched straight across the trackless prairie, through 
 the valley of the Big Blue. 
 
 This seemed to Terry more like it more like being 
 a real western pioneer. Here they were, with their 
 wagon, traveling all alone, making their own trail, 
 just as if they were the first white people into the 
 country. The sun was bright and glowing, the prairie 
 was green and in places carpeted with bright flowers, 
 a little breeze blew gently, Mr. Richards dried off 
 and so did the wagon and oxen; and best of all, 
 soon after crossing Wildcat Creek they all would be 
 " home " where Mrs. Richards could start in making 
 pie on her stove in the new cabin. 
 
 It was after noon when they came in sight of Wild- 
 cat Creek at least, in sight of the willows and cotton- 
 woods which fringed it. 
 
 " I wish I was as sure of this ford as I was of the 
 
ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 39 
 
 other," quoth Terry's father, calling to Mrs. Richards. 
 " It was all right, the last time I tried it." 
 
 "Where is it?" 
 
 "Head for that big cottonwood, Terry," directed 
 his father. " You'll find a wagon-track there, if I'm 
 not mistaken, where I brought in a load of stuff when 
 I built the cabin." 
 
 He loped on, to reconnoiter as before. Halted, he 
 beckoned for Terry to come along. 
 
 "Goodness, but that doesn't look very inviting, 
 does it ! " commented Terry's mother, peering in doubt. 
 
 This was the ford, evidently; an old wagon track 
 led into the water, and out again on the other side. 
 But the creek seemed high. It had spread beyond its 
 usual limits, and was coursing by, heavy with mud and 
 as thick as a paste. Terry figured that he could throw 
 a stone across it, all right; but the wagon wasn't a 
 stone. 
 
 " Hadn't we better wait, Ralph? " proposed Terry's 
 mother, dubiously. " It will go down again. I don't 
 like the looks of it. Do you? " 
 
 " It looks worse than it is. But I'll ride in a way, and 
 find out." 
 
 So in he urged the old mare. She, too, seemed 
 afraid, and trod very gingerly, snorting at the new ad- 
 venture. However, the water did not rise so high 
 against her as had the water in the Big Blue ; and from 
 the middle Mr. Richards called back cheerily. 
 
 "We can make it. Get aboard, Terry, and drive. 
 Wait till I put the rope on, again, so as to hold you 
 steady." 
 
40 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Terry drove into position. He ordered Shep into 
 the wagon, and climbed to the seat once more. His 
 father hoisted the chicken coop higher. Shep, his fore 
 feet on the coop, stood gazing out expectantly. 
 
 " Head so as to land in those other tracks, Terry," 
 bade his father. " I'll stay you with the rope." 
 
 This looked easy ; nothing as compared with the Big 
 Blue, where they had to double up. Terry drove in 
 confidently; but several times he felt the wagon lurch 
 under him and settle by the side, as if the bottom were 
 softer than they had figured. Probably there were 
 spots of mud or quicksand. The heavy water hit the 
 wagon box hard, and the wagon swayed and trembled. 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! " implored his mother, when now the 
 wheels on the up side sank into a hole and the wagon 
 careened dangerously. The oxen were almost carried 
 off their feet. 
 
 " Keep going, Terry ! " shouted his father. " Don't 
 stop. Use the whip." 
 
 "Buck! Spot! Hep! Haw! Haw, Buck! Hep 
 with you ! " cried Terry, and swept the span with his 
 lash. 
 
 They tugged nobly, did Buck and Spot. The wagon 
 stuck careened creaked alarming the water poured 
 in Buck slipped and momentarily disapeared, but 
 came up again; and suddenly, just as the wagon 
 moved again 
 
 " Terry! Watch out! " exclaimed his mother. 
 
 Terry glanced up-stream; floating sluggishly, and 
 slowly whirling over and over, a large snag, part of a 
 half-drowned tree, was bearing down for them. One 
 
ACCIDENT AT WILDCAT CREEK 41 
 
 end was going to strike them, sure, unless he pulled 
 on. 
 
 He yelled loudly to the struggling, blowing oxen, and 
 desperately laid the lash on, thwacking their tense backs. 
 Well they responded, good old Buck and Spot, as if 
 they knew the danger. The wagon forged ahead ; but 
 after all, the end of the tree struck it at the rear. 
 
 With a grinding sound it lodged there, swinging the 
 wagon down-stream while the current boiled and 
 eddied. 
 
 " Whang ! " snapped the rope, broken in the middle. 
 Terry's mother screamed and clutched at him, he heard 
 a great shout from his father, and away went the 
 wagon, dragging the oxen backward as it slewed and 
 tilted. 
 
 Terry must act hard and quick. He knew that his 
 father was riding for them as fast as he could ; but the 
 oxen were off their feet, and like the wagon were adrift, 
 towed by the floating snag. If only they might pull 
 free ! He shouted his best, did Terry, trying to swing 
 the half strangled team down and across stream. His 
 great fear was that the wagon would be capsized, and 
 throw his mother out. Then, just at the moment of 
 nip and tuck, when he was almost sliding from the seat, 
 himself, the wagon grounded so did the oxen and 
 there was a sense of freedom as if the snag had torn 
 loose and left them. 
 
 " Now ! Buck ! Yip with you ! Spot ! Gee ! Gee, 
 Spot! Whoa! Gee! Yip! Yip!" And Terry, shout- 
 ing and urging, plied the lash. 
 
 Buck and Spot tugged ; on moved the wagon, toward 
 
42 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 a low place in the bank several rods below the right 
 landing; but that didn't matter, so long as the oxen 
 could make it. Terry's mother cried out again, with 
 her head turned. 
 
 "Oh, Terry! Your father!" 
 
 On, to the bank, lunged the bulging-eyed oxen 
 reached it at last and through the soft mud yanked the 
 wagon to the top, where they stopped of their own ac- 
 cord, to stand with flanks heaving. 
 
 Terry now might look behind him, for his father. 
 But his father was not in sight, neither was the mare 
 or her colt. 
 
 " Run, Terry ! Down the bank ! " besought his 
 mother. " He'll need help." She sprang to the ground, 
 but Terry was out first 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE NEW HOME 
 
 QUICK though his mother was, quick was Terry ; and 
 at full speed he ran, down the bank of the creek and 
 around the turn below. Shep loyally followed, excited 
 also. From the turn the creek flowed swiftly on, in 
 numerous other turns, some of them banked by willows 
 and other brush and trees. Constantly peering, Terry 
 panted along; and occasionally he shouted. He must 
 have gone about a mile, without success, when suddenly 
 he saw the mare, and her colt. They were grazing on 
 his side of the creek; and at the approach of him, 
 breathless, they pricked their ears and whinnied. The 
 mare was wringing wet, saddle and all. The colt had 
 a deep scratch in his shoulder, as if a snag had scraped 
 him. But of Terry's father there was not a token, any- 
 where ; not on the prairie, and not on the banks ; and not 
 (Terry was glad of this, at least) in the water. 
 
 Terry searched feverishly, everywhere that he could 
 think of. 
 
 " What did you do with my father ? " he even de- 
 manded, in despair, of the old mare. She did not an- 
 swer, except with a little nicker which he could not 
 translate; and when, sobbing, he mounted her and 
 turned back for the wagon, to report to his mother, the 
 
 43 
 
44 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 colt ambled in his trail. If they could only talk in 
 language that he might understand! 
 
 Panting back again, when he rounded the turn 
 beyond which was the wagon his heart gave a leap, for 
 he saw, at the wagon, and talking with his mother, a 
 man, horseback. But it was not his father. No, not 
 his father, miraculously mounted upon another horse. 
 The man appeared quite different. He was a long- 
 haired, full-bearded man a light brown beard. He 
 wore a peak-crowned, wide-brimmed black hat, with 
 a filagree band, a loose white soft shirt, black trousers 
 flaring at the bottom, with a broad gilt stripe down the 
 seam ; on his hands embroidered gauntlet gloves, and on 
 his high-heeled boots (into which his trousers were not 
 tucked), enormous spurs. 
 
 " Did you find him, Terry ? " called his mother, 
 eagerly. 
 
 Terry shook his head. 
 
 " I found the old mare and her colt. They were 
 eating grass, where they'd come across. But I couldn't 
 find him anywhere." 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! " gasped his mother, imploringly. 
 
 " How far did you look ? " queried the stranger, 
 viewing Terry with earnest blue eyes. 
 
 " About a mile down. Then I came back to tell my 
 mother." 
 
 " You wait here a bit. I'll ride further and see what 
 there is," proffered the stranger; and wheeling his 
 horse, he loped briskly away down the creek. 
 
 " Did you look on both banks, Terry? " quavered his 
 mother. 
 
THE NEW HOME 45 
 
 Terry nodded. 
 
 " Everywhere," he said. " He wasn't in sight." 
 
 " He may have been carried on down," spoke his 
 mother, hopefully. "He must have been swept out of 
 the saddle by the snag." 
 
 "The colt's scratched. See?" responded Terry, 
 hoping too. " Maybe that man will find him. Who is 
 that man ? " 
 
 " I don't really know. He rode up to me while I was 
 waiting, and asked what was the trouble. He seemed 
 to know where the Richards' cabin is. I told him who 
 we were." 
 
 There wasn't much to do but wait and that was 
 dreary work. Terry continued to sit in the saddle. He 
 let the mare graze. Shep whined, as if aware that 
 something was wrong. The sun shone bright, the little 
 breeze blew across the green, flowery prairie, but what 
 a change had occurred ! Almost within sight of the new 
 home, when the long journey was practically at an end, 
 and they three were so happy, this disaster had inter- 
 fered, to take the comrade whom they so loved and on 
 whom they so depended. 
 
 The wet wagon dripped, the two oxen stood with 
 noses drooped, Shep whined, and Terry, seeing his 
 mother fixed and white and gazing down the course of 
 the creek, felt like bursting into tears. But he must not ; 
 he must not, or she would cry, too. He must play the 
 man, and be ready to do whatever he could, to help her. 
 
 It seemed a long time before the stranger horseman 
 reappeared, galloping back up the creek. As he arrived, 
 he shook his head but he might have come with worse 
 
46 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 news than that he had found nothing. There was still 
 hope, then. 
 
 " I searched two miles, and found never a sign," he 
 reported. " Sorry, but that's the case. I don't think 
 much more can be done at present, but I'll do what- 
 ever I can." 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! " cried his mother, piteously. " What 
 will we do ! I can't believe that your father is gone" 
 
 " I wouldn't believe so, either, if I were you, ma'am," 
 spoke the stranger. :< You aren't left alone, at any 
 rate. You've got this boy to stand by you, and be the 
 man of the family." 
 
 " He will. I know he will," quavered Mrs. Richards. 
 "Won't you, Terry?" 
 
 Terry nodded, choking. He sprang from the mare 
 and running to his mother put his arm around her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " And we won't give up the ranch," he said. " I can 
 work it. And we'll have it all ready for dad when he 
 
 comes." 
 
 "That's right," approved the stranger, heartily. 
 " That's the brave lad and that's the brave woman. 
 Now if I were you I'd go ahead to your cabin, and not 
 wait around here any longer. I'll ride the creek again 
 and keep watch; and after that I'll come up and see 
 what more I can do. But you'd better take your mother 
 on, Terry my lad, and put a roof over her, and wait 
 t here. Can you drive those oxen ? " 
 
 " Of course," asserted Terry. " Can't I, ma! " 
 "Just as well as anybody," affirmed his mother, 
 proudly, with a hug. She cast another long, searching 
 
THE NEW HOME 47 
 
 look down the creek. " Yes,'- she said, with a sad 
 little smile at Terry, "we'd better go on. Terry'll 
 take care of me, I know. He'll be my man until his 
 father comes back. We ought to get to the cabin be- 
 fore dark." 
 
 " Bueno," approved the stranger, with a Spanish 
 word. " Why, when I was a boy of his age I was ready 
 to take care of my mother, and I reckon he's every bit 
 as good as I was. Get aboard. The mare will follow. 
 Lucky you've got her. She and the colt'll come in 
 handy. I know something about horses. I've been out 
 in Californy, where nobody walked. Well, I'll tell you 
 how to reach your cabin, if it's the Richards' cabin. 
 I've passed it several times, of late. You see yon hill ? " 
 he asked, of Terry. Terry did. " Keep to the left of 
 it, and on the other side you'll sight this creek again. 
 The cabin's only about a mile straight ahead, then, to 
 the south of a patch of timber, before you reach the 
 creek. How are you fixed for supplies? " 
 
 " Plenty," answered Mrs. Richards. 
 
 " All right. Do the best you can, and depend on the 
 boy ; and when I've ridden the creek, and notified some 
 people below to keep a lookout, I'll come up and see 
 how you're getting on, and report anything that I've 
 learned." 
 
 " Thank you again and again," said Mrs. Richards, 
 as she entered the wagon once more. " Will you tell 
 us your name, so we'll know who you are ? " 
 
 The man laughed bluffly. 
 
 " Oh, names don't amount to much, out in this 
 country, ma'am. It's what people do, more than what 
 
48 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 name they happen to bear. But if you want to know, 
 my name's Judy, and mostly Sol. Sol Judy." 
 
 "Do you live here?" 
 
 " No, ma'am, except that I live nowhere and every- 
 where. I live as I happen to be. I've been in Cali- 
 forny, until lately. That's where I got this horse. I've 
 been sailor and soldier and miner and teamster and 
 now I'm a horse breaker, sort of. I'm making a busi- 
 ness of corralling horses from the Injuns or wild on 
 the prairie, and breaking 'em and selling 'em. I just 
 ride through the country, which is why I'm here." 
 
 He sidled his horse (which certainly was a fine 
 animal, whose big saddle, with high pommel and cantle 
 and great hooded stirrups, looked like California, as 
 now did its rider's costume also) to the wagon, and 
 reaching out shook hands with Terry's mother. 
 
 " You've got the boy," he reminded. " He'll pull 
 you through. And you've got a good ranch, 'cording to 
 my notion. Keep a stiff upper lip if you'll pardon 
 my saying so. As for you, my lad," he continued, now 
 extending his hand to Terry, " you buckle to it and 
 make a home for your mother. If I can do anything 
 for you, while I'm in the country I will. I'll be down 
 at Riley, off and on. That's my headquarters. But 
 I'll come up soon, anyhow, Adios, and good luck." 
 
 He gripped Terry's hand hard, and slapped him on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " I will," assured Terry. " Please look a little more, 
 though, and find my father." 
 
 " We'll find him," declared Sol Judy, with stubborn 
 shake of his high-crowned hat. " He may have been 
 
THE NEW HOME 49 
 
 carried several miles down, yet, and crawled out, and 
 is getting his breath so he can travel. Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by," they replied. And Terry manfully 
 shouted, to the oxen : " Buck ! Spot ! Haw ! Giddap ! 
 Hep with you." 
 
 Buck and Spot started, the wagon creaked and 
 rolled ahead, and watching the march, a moment, sit- 
 ting his fine horse Mr. Judy waved encouragement. 
 They waved back. Then he turned, and cantered 
 away, down along the creek. 
 
 " Well, Terry, we must do the best we can till your 
 father comes," said Terry's mother. 
 
 "Do you think he'll come, ma?" anxiously asked 
 Terry. 
 
 " I know he will, dear. I'm as certain of it as I am 
 that I see you. Meanwhile, you're the man of the 
 family. You'll have to work hard, but I'll help you." 
 
 " You needn't do a thing, ma," declared Terry. 
 " I'll do it all except make pie. Gwan, Buck ! " 
 
 " We've got the chickens and the oxen and the 
 horses," purused his mother, bravely, " and we might 
 be much worse off ; mightn't we ? " 
 
 "I should say so," agreed Terry. "Haw, Spot! 
 What's the matter with you ! Haw now gee ! Hep ! 
 Gwan." 
 
 " Mr. Judy told us to keep to the left of that hill, 
 remember. Then the cabin's only a little way further." 
 
 " I know. Wonder when we'll see it." 
 
 " Pretty soon, dear." 
 
 They plodded along, and the hill drew nearer. 
 Slowly they rounded the base of it, and entered into 
 
50 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 a valley. They gazed anxiously ahead, for the sun 
 was low and evening was at hand, and they dreaded to 
 camp again, by themselves this time. 
 
 " I see it ! I see it ! " exclaimed Terry's mother, 
 from the wagon seat. " Anyway, I see a cabin." 
 
 " Where? " And Terry craned his neck. 
 
 " Yonder, up the valley. There's the creek, isn't it? 
 That line of brush. And there's a timber patch. Don't 
 you see the cabin, too ? " 
 
 Terry did : a low cabin, set out on the bottom-land 
 not far from the creek and the timber patch. 
 
 " It's our ranch, ma," he cried. " I know it. It 
 looks just like dad told us it would." 
 
 " I wish he were here," breathed his mother, softly; 
 she gazed behind them, again, hoping Mr. Judy might 
 be bringing him ; but not a moving figure was in sight. 
 And not a moving figure was in sight before, either. 
 Very lonely appeared the landscape, where the single 
 cabin was the only token of human life, until Terry 
 said, exultantly : 
 
 " Here are wagon tracks, ma. I guess we'll follow 
 them. They must be the ones dad made when he 
 hauled building stuff across the creek. We can pre- 
 tend he's leading us ! " 
 
 " So we can, Terry," agreed his mother. 
 
 Trending toward the cabin, on wended the tracks, 
 with Terry fitting the wagon wheels to them, and Buck 
 and Spot pulling a little more lively, as if they, also, 
 anticipated soon being " home." The cabin rose 
 against the horizon, where hung the low sun. The 
 breeze had ceased blowing, and everything was quiet. 
 
THE NEW HOME 51 
 
 Terry stared expectantly, sizing up the situation; so 
 did his mother. 
 
 The cabin grew plainer. It resolved into a plain 
 log cabin, almost square, with a sod roof, and in the 
 gable end of the roof a small window, above the 
 door, showing that this was a cabin with a loft. The 
 cabin sat right out in the open, as if it might have been 
 dropped from the sky or from a passing wagon, and 
 the sod extended to the very threshold. But there was 
 a rude shed, for the wagon, and adjacent to it a pole 
 corral or cow-yard, enclosing a sort of lean-to, for the 
 oxen and horses. 
 
 Terry gazed hard at the chimney, hoping against 
 hope that his father might have someway beat them 
 and have started a fire as a welcome. Smoke coming 
 out of that chimney would have been a grand sight. 
 However, there was no smoke, the door and the win- 
 dow-shutters were closed tight, and the cabin evidently 
 was still waiting for its family. 
 
 " It looks like a real cabin, doesn't it ! " asserted 
 Terry's mother. " You may be sure it's good, if your 
 father made it. But there aren't many neighbors." 
 
 " We'll have the Stantons, pretty soon," comforted 
 Terry. " You mustn't be afraid, ma. I'll take care 
 of you. I'll use dad's gun and shoot game for you 
 and keep the Injuns off. Whoa, Buck ! Spot ! " And 
 at last he halted the oxen, before the cabin door. 
 
 " Anyway, here we are, laddie," assured his mother, 
 plucking up courage, and springing down. " It must 
 be our cabin, don't you think ? But how'll we get in ? 
 Everything's locked. Your father told you how, didn't 
 he? By a window." 
 
52 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Sure," said Terry, boldly. " It's easy. Fll show 
 you." 
 
 " Be careful," she begged. " If it shouldn't be our 
 cabin " 
 
 " But it is, ma," argued Terry. " If it isn't I won't 
 be able to break in. See ? " 
 
 He opened his knife, and walked boldly to the side 
 window on the right. His father had explained that 
 the middle board of the shutter was only tacked lightly 
 in place, and that the way to do was to pry it out with 
 a knife blade, and then one could insert an arm far 
 enough to lift out the wooden staple that held the 
 shutter fast. 
 
 Terry applied his knife-blade ; and, hurrah, out came 
 the board. 
 
 " I've got it, ma ! " he cried. " Wait till I open the 
 door." 
 
 He pulled the pin which fitted down through the 
 bottom rail of the shutter and into the sill, and swung 
 the shutter outward. In he clambered peering about 
 him, as he did so, to make certain. 
 
 The interior of the cabin was dim, but smelled new 
 and sweet. As he lightly landed on the wooden floor 
 he heard a slight scuffle, as if he had surprised another 
 occupant; but he did not stop for that. Across the 
 boards he ran, to open the door at once. The door 
 was fastened shut by a bar which laid in a socket of the 
 door and of the jamb. It took only a second to lift 
 this also, and the wooden latch (the latchstring of 
 which was hanging inside), and fling the door wide. 
 
 " Come in, Mrs. Richards, ma'am," he invited, 
 
THE NEW HOME 53 
 
 with a mock bow. " Make yourself at home. Will 
 you stay to supper ? " 
 
 " I declare ! " quoth his mother, nervously holding 
 back her skirts, and standing on the threshold, to sur- 
 vey. " It seems quite nice. I do wish he were here." 
 
 And so did Terry. 
 
 She put her arm around him, and together they in- 
 spected the new quarters, as she cautiously entered, 
 with him. The interior of the cabin of course was 
 rudely furnished, but it did strike them as " homey ". 
 There was a fine big fire-place, of stones cemented 
 with clay, and a hole in the upper part of the chimney, 
 for the stovepipe. Terry remembered how his father 
 had counted on this fire-place for comfort. There was 
 a table, of long slabs, dressed-sides up, on stout square 
 legs. There was a slab stool for his mother to sit on 
 when cooking or paring potatoes. There was a bench, 
 too, which in summer would be outside, for the wash 
 basin, etc. There was a ladder, leading to a trap-door 
 in the ceiling, for Terry to ascend when he went to 
 bed " up-stairs." There was a broad bunk, or bed, at 
 the far end of the cabin, built of planks, like a shallow 
 box, to be fitted with the mattress that his mother had 
 made to measurement ; here his mother and father were 
 to sleep. There was the barrel, which should stand 
 outside, covered, to be kept full of water for daily 
 use. There were three windows, one on either side 
 and one at the end opposite the door; the sashes for 
 these were in the wagon. The floor was of rough new 
 planks, hauled from the mill; and while they did not 
 meet exactly and left cracks, they made a stout floor. 
 
54 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Similar planks formed the ceiling, but whitish muslin 
 had been tacked over them, to keep the dust from 
 sifting down. Terry nimbly ran up the ladder and 
 poked his head through the trap door hole. 
 
 " I've got a bunk up here, ma," he called, excited. 
 " You won't be afraid, with me right over your head, 
 will you ! I bet I can see the whole country from the 
 window. Do you want to come up ? " 
 
 " Not now, Terry," she answered. " We'd better 
 move some things in from the wagon, before dark." 
 
 Down jumped Terry, and out they went again. But 
 they could not resist one little tour of the premises. 
 The cabin appeared remarkably sturdy, proof against 
 wind and weather yes, and against " Injuns." The 
 logs, from which the bark had been pealed, were 
 chinked tight and hard with clay. The chimney was 
 tremendously thick, and the sod roof already was 
 growing grass ! The shed was plenty large enough for 
 the wagon and machinery; and one side contained a 
 roost for the chickens. The corral was strong, too, and 
 the shed was water-proof, and there was a rack for hay. 
 There even was an outside cellar, or dugout, with the 
 dirt roof only a couple of feet above the surface of 
 the ground, and here would be kept the butter and 
 milk and potatoes and that sort of thing. And, valu- 
 able in the present emergency, against one side of the 
 cabin was stacked a lot of split wood, waiting for the 
 stove ! 
 
 Well, well, matters might have been much worse, 
 thanks to Mr. Richards, who plainly had worked hard. 
 What a lot he had accomplished, to make the new 
 home pleasant and convenient ! 
 
THE NEW HOME 55 
 
 However, as Terry's mother had reminded him, it 
 was high time that they set about moving in. Terry 
 manfully turned the oxen out, to graze, and tethered 
 the old mare to the corral until he had started his 
 mother at housekeeping. 
 
 The first thing to do was to put up the stove. That 
 was quite a job, for the stove was heavy, and at the 
 bottom of the load. Finally they got to it, after they 
 had carried in chairs and the mattress and a lot of 
 other stuff; and tugging manfully Terry dragged it 
 to the rear end of the wagon. When they had stripped 
 it as much as it could be stripped, they managed to 
 drop it out, and foot by foot tugged it inside the cabin, 
 to the spot that his mother had selected after they had 
 measured the pipe lengths. Then they set it up, and 
 reaching on the stool Terry adjusted the pipe. 
 
 " There ! " said his mother, triumphantly standing 
 back and surveying it. " We sha'n't have pie to-night, 
 but maybe we will to-morrow." 
 
 They made the beds Terry's up in the loft, his 
 mother's below, and they rapidly distributed the furni- 
 ture and the cooking utensils. Really, in an astonish- 
 ingly short space of time the cabin began to look very 
 familiar. 
 
 The sun had sunk, twilight was flowing across the 
 lonely wide valley. From the doorway Terry's mother 
 suddenly exclaimed, pointing. 
 
 "Terry! Look! See those big birds flying into 
 that timber!" 
 
 "Oh, ma! They're turkeys ! Wild turkeys I That's 
 where they roost." 
 
56 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder a bit. Think of having a 
 turkey roost in one's own yard." 
 
 " I'll go get one if you say so/' proffered Terry, ex- 
 cited at the prospect. " I'll take the shot-gun." 
 
 " No, not to-night," bade his mother. " You've got 
 to water the mare and put her up, you know ; and we've 
 enough to eat, for supper. 
 
 " Well, sometime, just the same," answered Terry. 
 But she was right. Business before pleasure, at pres- 
 ent. 
 
 " And get me a pail of water, too, dear, while you're 
 watering the mare," added his mother. 
 
 Taking the pail, and leading the mare, Terry started 
 away, for the creek, over whose brush hung low the 
 dusk. He had trudged only about a dozen paces, 
 when his mother's voice summoned him alarmingly. 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! Terry ! Come quick ! " 
 
 Dropping pail and rope, back ran Terry, frightened 
 at the tone. His mother was outside, her skirts again 
 held tight, while she peered in; and he heard a shrill, 
 angry buzz, rising and falling, rising and falling, mak- 
 ing the very air quiver. 
 
 " A rattlesnake, Terry ! It came up right through 
 the floor beside me ! " gasped his mother, pointing. 
 
 She had lighted a candle. There, near the table, 
 was sticking up through a knothole in the floor a rattle- 
 snake, sure enough. His rattle was out of sight, 
 under the floor; but half of him formed a couple 
 of coils on top, where his ugly head, protruding from 
 the center of his coils, swayed and darted its forked 
 tongue. Evidently he was angered at the invasion, 
 
"LOOK OUT, TERRY!" BESOUGHT HIS MOTHER. 
 
THE NEW HOME 57 
 
 and the noise of feet over him, and he had issued to 
 give warning. 
 
 " I'll fix him, ma," asserted Terry. " Just let him 
 wait a minute." And Terry sprang for his ox whip. 
 
 " Be careful, Terry ! " begged his mother. " Don't 
 go near. Throw things at him and when he's under 
 again we'll stop up the hole." 
 
 " Shucks ! " objected Terry. " We can't live in any 
 peace, with him under the floor. He's liable to dig out, 
 or something." 
 
 Terry advanced with the whip; but he advanced 
 very cautiously. Louder and more angry sounded the 
 rattle, and the snake showed no disposition to retreat. 
 
 " Look out, Terry ! " besought his mother. 
 
 " He can't jump far, out of that hole," declared 
 Terry. He poised the whip-stock, and within strik- 
 ing distance swung it mightily. The butt landed full 
 against the snake's head, and must have broken the 
 neck, for the snake sprawled lax and quivering. Terry 
 leaped for him and thwacked him hard, battering the 
 head to jelly. Then he bethought himself of the 
 pitchfork; ran and got it, picked the snake from 
 the hole, and (his mother standing aside fearfully) 
 pitched it outside. 
 
 " Jiminy ! He's a sockdologer, isn't he, ma ! " 
 crowed Terry. " Think of having him in the family ! " 
 For the snake was fully five feet long, as thick through 
 as one's forearm, and by count had thirteen rattles and 
 a button. " Give me something and I'll stuff that hole 
 up; and to-night I'll nail a tin over it. Wonder if 
 there are any more holes." 
 
58 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 But there weren't; having stuffed the hole, Terry 
 laid the snake body apart for skinning in the morning, 
 and proceeded to the creek. He felt as though he had 
 done pretty well, for a beginning. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 . AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 
 
 DOWN by the creek all was chill and gloomy, with 
 strange shadows lurking among the willows, and the 
 water babbling in many voices. The old mare snorted 
 and stared suspiciously, before she drank. Terry had 
 almost to drag her forward to the brink. He felt a 
 little uneasy, himself; for this was strange ground, 
 the real wilderness, and the cabin light, shining through 
 the door ajar, seemed far away. 
 
 However, he decided that he probably would have 
 to do considerable tramping around, at this hour, here- 
 after, and that he might as well start right in. He was 
 the man of the family. His father of course wouldn't 
 have been afraid at all. Oh, if dad would only turn 
 up safe and sound, or even a little injured; how glad 
 they would be to see him! 
 
 The mare certainly acted very foolish, for an old 
 horse who had camped out in the open every night 
 for weeks. While drinking, she frequently paused, to 
 sn'ort, and stare, and paw, and the colt sidled close 
 to her, pressing against her shoulder. Terry also 
 stared. He rather wished that he had brought the 
 gun, although he could not see a thing to be alarmed 
 at. 
 
 59 
 
60 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Darkness was gathering rapidly, enfolding the 
 stream bed and the timber patch. Hist! There were 
 the turkeys, talking piping querulously one to an- 
 other. A great owl, on silent wing, flapped over; and 
 night-hawks, scarcely seen, swooped up and down. 
 Suddenly, in the timber, sounded a rush, a crash, 
 and a tremendous fluttering from the disturbed tur- 
 keys. The old mare wheeled, snorting again, and 
 Terry himself made a long jump, holding to her rope. 
 The turkeys were twittering excitedly, and blundering 
 from branch to branch. What ailed them? Perhaps 
 one had fallen out of bed. Terry's heart thumped, 
 as he tried to listen. Well, whatever it was that had 
 disturbed the turkeys, at any rate the old mare wanted 
 to go back to the cabin, and he was willing to take her. 
 He must confess that he did not like to be so near this 
 timber patch until he got more used to it by day-time. 
 
 So back he trudged, the mare keeping abreast of 
 him at a short nervous trot; and he cast occasional 
 glances behind him to make certain that nothing was 
 following them. Glad enough was he to be guided by 
 the cabin light, and to know that his mother was wait- 
 ing for him. The fume of the wood burning in the 
 stove smelled good ; it smelled of home. 
 
 "Is that you, Terry?" called his mother, opening 
 the door wider, and standing framed there, looking 
 out, as he approached. 
 
 " Whoo-ee ! " responded Terry. " I'm here. I'll set 
 the pail of water inside and then I'll come myself after 
 I've put the mare up." 
 
 " Yes, do, dear. It's getting too dark for you. And 
 please bring another armful of wood with you." 
 
AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 61 
 
 He delivered the pail of water and turned the mare 
 and her colt into the corral. Then he got the arm- 
 ful of wood, and his first evening's chores at the new 
 home were done. 
 
 " All right, Terry. This is cosy, isn't it! " cheerily 
 said his mother, busy at the stove. And she spoke 
 truth. But what a lot she had done even in his short 
 absence. She was smart, was his mother. She had 
 arranged the scant furniture, and had strung a bright 
 calico curtain so as to shut off her bedroom, and had 
 set the table, and now by the light of two candles was 
 cooking supper bacon and fried potatoes and bis- 
 cuit! 
 
 " No more snakes ? " queried Terry. 
 
 " Not a sign of one. You can wash, and we'll eat. 
 Supper's about ready." 
 
 " So am I," informed Terry. 
 
 They were just sitting down, when a loud hail of 
 " Hello, in there ! " broke upon their talk. 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! " exclaimed his mother, hopefully 
 for although they had tried to talk of many things, 
 their minds had been full of the one subject : Terry's 
 father. Now perhaps he had come. 
 
 " Hello! " shouted Terry; and jumping to the door, 
 he opened it. 
 
 But only Sol Judy sat, on his horse, revealed by the 
 ight. Still, he was welcome, for he might have brought 
 news. 
 
 " Already settled, are you ? " he greeted, as he dis- 
 mounted, and dropped his lines. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Pretty near," answered Terry. " Did 
 you find anything ? " 
 
62 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Is that Mr. Judy ? " called Mrs. Richards. " Have 
 him come in." 
 
 " I can't stay," said Mr. Judy. " I rode up here 
 because I knew you'd be anxious." He advanced to 
 the threshold, and spoke directly, without any beating 
 around the bush. " I have both bad news and good. 
 I haven't found your husband, I'm sorry to say; but 
 I've found this hat. Is it his ? " And he held out a hat. 
 
 "That's his!" exclaimed Terry. "I know it is, 
 ma. There's the tear in the crown. Remember? " 
 
 " It's his hat," agreed Mrs. Richards ; and her voice 
 broke, as she fingered the bedraggled brim. " Where 
 did you find it, please ? " 
 
 " Not in the water, ma'am," quickly answered Mr. 
 Judy. " That's the curious part, and that's the good 
 news. It was hanging on some willows, several feet 
 above the water, at the edge of the creek. It couldn't 
 have got there without being carried by somebody or 
 something. But I searched high and low for the man 
 himself, and found never a trace, except the hat." 
 
 " Couldn't it have dropped from the horse ? " pro- 
 posed Terry's mother. " It might have caught on 
 the saddle." 
 
 " It was hanging too high for that, ma'am. And 
 anyway, it was on the opposite side of the creek from 
 where the horse came out. I found the mare's tracks, 
 where she left the water, which was nowhere near the 
 hat." 
 
 "Weren't there any tracks at all near the hat?" 
 ventured Terry. 
 
 " Not a one. Most of the willows were standing 
 
AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 63 
 
 in water, and I did think the water might have been 
 stirred up a little, but I can't be sure. But I've an 
 idea your husband's alive, ma'am. I can't tell why, 
 except the hat seems to say so." 
 
 " I know he's alive," said Mrs. Richards, simply. 
 " I know he's alive and I know he'll come back some- 
 time, and all will be explained. I do hope he's not lying 
 out in the creek, injured. That worries me more than 
 anything else." 
 
 Mr. Judy shook his head. 
 
 " It doesn't seem likely, considering the hat. He'd 
 have strength enough to call out; and I searched the 
 whole creek thoroughly. It isn't deep enough to drown 
 in, in many places. There's a long stretch of shallows, 
 below. The creek's fallen two feet, since noon. It's 
 almost normal now." 
 
 " But not fallen enough to have left the hat so high, 
 you think? " asked Mrs. Richards. 
 
 "Well, I should say not; it never was up to that 
 point, ma'am." 
 
 "We'll hang the hat in the cabin, and it will be 
 ready for him when he comes," announced Terry's 
 mother. " Won't we, Terry ? " 
 
 Terry nodded, a lump in his throat. Just a hat was 
 rather forlorn. Still, it would be something to look 
 at, and it would seem like a sort of protection; and 
 when his father turned up (as he surely would, wouldn't 
 he?) they could hand it to him and say : 
 
 " Here's your hat, father. It's been waiting for 
 you." 
 
 " Now you must have a bite of supper, sir," con- 
 
64 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 tinued Mrs. Richards, to Sol Judy. "Come in and 
 sit down; there's a-plenty, such as it is. I put it to- 
 gether in a hurry." 
 
 But Terry felt that his mother needn't apologize 
 for that supper ! 
 
 " I'd like to mighty well, ma'am," answered Mr. 
 Judy, hesitating. " I see biscuits, and hot bread always 
 was my weak point. But I've a long ride to take yet 
 to-night, so as to do a little business to-morrow. So 
 now that I've told you what I know, I'll light out. 
 But I'll be 'round again and see how you and the boy 
 are getting on." 
 
 " Wait just a minute," bade Terry's mother. " Pour 
 a cup of coffee, Terry, and he can be drinking it." 
 And she fled to the table, opened half a dozen bis- 
 cuits, thrust bacon in, stuffed them into a paper sack 
 and passed it into Mr. Judy's hands. 
 
 " You can eat while you ride," she informed. " No- 
 body shall come to this cabin door at meal time and 
 go away without something. Besides, you've taken a 
 great deal of trouble on our account." 
 
 " Nothing at all, ma'am," stammered Mr. Judy, em- 
 barrassed by the biscuits and thanks. " Everybody 
 must help everybody else, in a new country. I wish 
 I could have brought you better news; but you can 
 keep hoping." 
 
 " We're more than hoping ; we're expecting," replied 
 Terry's mother. 
 
 " Maybe next time you come, you'll find dad here," 
 added Terry. 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder a mite," responded Mr. Judy, 
 
AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 65 
 
 putting foot into stirrup. " Good-night to you and 
 good luck, and much obliged for the forage. These 
 biscuits atop that coffee will carry me a long way." 
 
 " Good-night," they called. " And thanks for your 
 trouble." 
 
 As he rode off, he bit into a biscuit. Then he dis- 
 appeared in the darkness. 
 
 " We'll hang the hat on that peg beside the door, 
 Terry," quoth his mother. So she did. " And we'll 
 talk of him just as though he was around somewhere, 
 and would walk in at any moment. There's no use 
 in speculating exactly where he is, or imagining un- 
 pleasant things, which may not be true. I think he's 
 wandered off, and will be picked up and returned to 
 us; and meanwhile we'll do the very best we can." 
 
 "All right," agreed Terry; for he could see that 
 his mother was trying hard to be brave, and to make 
 him brave, also. 
 
 Anyway, it was comforting to have the hat hang- 
 ing on the peg, and the biscuits were particularly 
 good, and the cabin was the real thing ; so affairs might 
 have been much worse. 
 
 " Let's see ; what will we do to-morrow, Terry ? " 
 invited his mother as he wiped the dishes while she 
 washed. " About the first thing, is to be sure that we'll 
 have plenty to eat. I guess we'll make a kitchen garden, 
 and have it growing. And we must be getting ready 
 for winter, too, so that the animals won't starve. We 
 ought to plant some corn. And your father spoke 
 of a bottom of wild hay, didn't he ? We must look at 
 that. And a pasture for the oxen and horses ought 
 
66 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 to be fenced. And we must invent some way of get- 
 ting water easier. Maybe the spring is handy enough, 
 but I haven't seen it yet, have you? And there's the 
 wood supply to keep up, and I don't know what we're 
 going to do away out here for milk and butter, and 
 and oh, Terry I How can we ever manage to live, 
 alone?" 
 
 With that, his mother suddenly held her apron 
 against her face and began to cry. 
 
 This was awful ! Terry would much have preferred 
 to cry, himself. But now of course he couldn't, for he 
 must comfort her. After he had reminded her again 
 and again that he was to be her " man/' and that 
 everything was going to turn out all right, she hastily 
 wiped her eyes, and smiled, and declared that she 
 wouldn't be " foolish " any more. 
 
 They went to bed early : his mother behind the cur- 
 tain, at the end of the cabin, Terry in his loft, while 
 Shep kept guard outside and had the shed for a 
 shelter and the chickens for company. 
 
 Terry liked it, up in the loft, which extended the 
 full length and width of the cabin. In the middle, 
 under the peak of the roof, he could stand up, but the 
 slope of the roof came clear to the floor, at the eaves. 
 Above him were the roof beams and ridge-pole and a 
 dense thatch of willow boughs upon which had been 
 packed the clay mud and sod, two feet thick. Con- 
 siderable dust and large particles of dirt had sifted 
 down into the loft, but Terry did not mind this. 
 
 Under the window in the end was his bunk; he 
 opened the shutter and fastened it back with the wooden 
 
AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 67 
 
 button, and hopped in beneath the blanket and quilts. 
 Lying there, he could stare up at the million stars, 
 while the cool air swept across his face. Everything 
 was still; all the world seemed asleep. He was just 
 drifting off into slumber, himself, when he was 
 startled wide awake and a-tremble by the most un- 
 canny, blood-curdling noise that he had ever heard. 
 It was a long, weird yell, rising high and falling again, 
 long drawn-out, piercing the night like a knife. 
 Whether it was near or far he could not tell, but evi- 
 dently it was some animal. Jiminy Christmas ! What ? 
 Sounded a little like a horse yelling, the way horses 
 can, when angry or distressed. 
 
 But it wasn't the mare; for when, he hastily sat up, 
 peering, he heard her snorting in the corral ; Shep was 
 barking furiously, the chickens were cackling af- 
 f rightedly, and his mother's voice called : 
 
 "Terry! Are you awake? Did you hear that?" 
 
 " Yes ; it waked me up. Do you want me, ma ? Are 
 you afraid ? " 
 
 " No ; we're all right, in here, I guess. But what 
 was it?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "Is the shed door shut?" 
 
 " I don't think so ; I left it open for Shep." 
 
 " Maybe we'd better shut it, if there's some animal 
 prowling around. I'll go and shut it." 
 
 Terry tumbled out and felt for his boots. 
 
 "No, you mustn't, ma," he cried. "I'll shut it. 
 I'd just as lief." 
 
 " I hate to have you, Terry. You won't be afraid, 
 
68 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 will you? And you'll be careful. I'll hold a candle 
 for you. You can take the gun if you want to. Shep 
 can sleep under the wagon, can't he. We wouldn't 
 like to lose our chickens/' 
 
 " I'll go," repeated Terry. 
 
 He hauled on his boots, and crept for the trap-door 
 and the ladder. As he set foot on the top round, the 
 cry sounded again that wailing, hideous cry amidst 
 the stillness and the night. Now Shep was pressed 
 against the cabin door, barking and growling but 
 ready to come in. He, too, was dubious and it was 
 not often that Shep backed from any danger. 
 
 With a wrapper on, and her hair down, Terry's 
 mother was waiting, a lighted candle in her hand. 
 
 " Dear, I do hate to have you go out," she faltered, 
 anxiously. " Take the gun, and be very careful." 
 
 Terry grabbed the gun, where it was leaning in a 
 corner. He opened the door, and with his mother 
 close behind him, candle lifted, he stared out. Shep 
 was mighty glad to have him, and now darted forward 
 a little way, barking and growling. He may have 
 seen something, but Terry could see not a thing. Well, 
 he was in for it now ; and with a " Sick 'em, Shep ! " 
 and a bold heart he stepped forth. 
 
 The shed was around the corner of the house; his 
 mother followed him that far, to the corner, holding 
 the candle for him. Its beams were feeble, scarcely 
 reaching to the shed and corral. The canvas hood of 
 the wagon glimmered spectral in the chill, dark air; 
 and beyond, outside the circle of candle-light, what 
 lurked? Terry's feet carried him forward, but his 
 
AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 69 
 
 heart beat so fast that he could scarcely breathe. It 
 took all his spunk, to cross the haunted space, even 
 though Shep formed the advance. However, his 
 mother would have gone and that made him ashamed 
 to show the white feather. 
 
 Glaring right and left, he trudged ahead, his finger 
 upon the trigger of the heavy gun. Hurrah, he had 
 reached the shed at last, and it didn't take him long to 
 close that door and fasten it with the thong and wooden 
 staple. The old mare was barely visible, her head in- 
 quiringly stretched over the top pole of the corral, 
 as near to him as she could get. She nickered at him 
 appealingly. He stepped and patted her nose. Why, 
 she was trembling all over! Shep was still growling, 
 but his growls were mingled with frightened whim- 
 pers. Terry peered across the corral and there, at 
 the other side, he actually saw two pale spots, about 
 three feet from the ground and about six inches 
 apart. Eyes! Wild animal eyes! 
 
 Terry's heart gave a tremendous thump, he caught 
 his breath, but up to his shoulder leaped the gun, and 
 almost before its butt touched him he had blazed away 
 bang ! He didn't take time to aim ; but by the flare 
 he was certain that he glimpsed a long body turn and 
 in a single bound disappear. 
 
 " Terry ! " called his mother, frantically. " What's 
 the matter ? Are you all right ? Terry ! " 
 
 " I'm all right, ma," answered Terry, excited. 
 " Something was out here at the corral." 
 
 "Did you shoot it?" 
 
 " I don't believe so." He ran around the corral, 
 
70 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 with his second barrel ready. " No, 'm. 'Tisn't here. 
 I'm going to shoot again, though, to scare it." And 
 " Bang! " went his second barrel. 
 
 Shep had darted lorward, at the first shot. Now 
 back he came, whining, his bristles high but his tail 
 between his legs. Whatever he had pursued, he had 
 gone quite near enough to, evidently. 
 
 " Come in, Terry. Won't you, please ? " besought 
 Terry's mother. 
 
 ' Yes, 'm. It's gone, anyhow." 
 
 Feeling rather satisfied with himself, Terry strode 
 for the house. He stopped at the wagon and invited 
 Shep into it a shelter which Shep somehow was not 
 loth to accept, instead of the exposed ground under- 
 neath. He curled himself away, growling. 
 
 "What do you suppose that was?" asked Terry's 
 mother, lighting Terry into the house again. 
 
 " I don't know, ma," said Terry. " But it was big 
 and had everything scared stiff. I guess it was what 
 yelled and woke us up." 
 
 " Well, I don't like such animals prowling around," 
 confessed his mother. 
 
 " I'm not afraid any more, now," asserted Terry. 
 And he wasn't. He was over the worst. " Whatever it 
 is, it had better keep away from our place." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 
 
 THE beast did not scream again; at least, they did 
 not hear it, and the morning dawned bright and peace- 
 ful. Terry awakened to the voice of his mother calling 
 up the ladder way. As he dressed in a jiffy he could 
 smell the aroma of breakfast cooking. Through the 
 open window of his loft the sun streamed ; and looking 
 out while he pulled on his boots he could see the green 
 of brush and meadow stretching away, to the creek and 
 the timber patch. And it all belonged to them to his 
 father and mother and him ! 
 
 Well, there was lots to be done, but it would be fun 
 to work for oneself and carve a home out of the 
 wilderness. Already the chickens were anxious to be 
 up and at it, for they were complaining as the shafts 
 of light struck through the cracks in the shed. Buck 
 and Spot were in sight, industriously grazing. 
 
 Terry hustled down the ladder, exchanged a brisk 
 good-morning and a sound kiss with his mother; and 
 grabbing the hand-basin stepped outside to wash. 
 Shep came bounding to him, for greeting, and in the 
 corral the old mare and her colt, waiting for breakfast, 
 were safe and sound also. The beast visitor of the 
 night might have been only a dream. 
 
 After washing, Terry made a bee-line for the corral, 
 
72 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 to search the spot at which he had pointed the gun. He 
 had shot too high, that was certain; for the bottom 
 edge of the load had barely scraped the top rail. So 
 there were no blood marks but in the soft ground 
 below there were paw tracks. Yes, sir. Why, the 
 beast had worn almost a little path, as if he had trotted 
 back and forth along the bottom rail! Jiminy! No 
 wonder the old mare was frightened, with that thing 
 stalking her and her colt, in the darkness. Terry 
 felt a little shaky merely at the tracks ; sniffing at them, 
 Shep dropped his bushy tail and growled. 
 
 Plainly enough, no common prowler was this; no 
 wolf or coyote. But before Terry had finished ex- 
 amining, his mother called him to breakfast. 
 
 " Terry ? Breakfast. Where are you, dear ? " 
 
 " I'm coming," answered Terry. He let the chickens 
 out, and hurried back. 
 
 " I saw where that animal was," he announced, 
 breathless. "It left a regular path where it walked 
 up and down outside the corral. I didn't hit it, though. 
 I shot too high." 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! " gasped his mother. " What kind 
 of tracks. Not bear ? " 
 
 " Don't think so. They're big round tracks, more 
 like wolf tracks." 
 
 " Was it a wolf, then? I never heard a wolf make 
 that noise." 
 
 " Couldn't be a wolf. Shep's not afraid of a wolf; 
 he'd tackle a wolf, any time." 
 
 " Dear me ! " sighed his mother. " I don't like to 
 have such things around. I wish your father was 
 here." 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 73 
 
 " Don't you worry, ma," comforted Terry. " I'll 
 fix it if it doesn't keep away. I'll watch to-night." 
 
 " But it might get you! " protested his mother. 
 " And then what would I do? " 
 
 "Shucks!" scoffed Terry. "I'll hide on top the 
 shed, with the gun; and when it comes bang! " 
 
 His mother laughed. 
 
 " I really believe you would," she said. " But we'll 
 see. Anyway, what will we do to-day ? There are so 
 many things." 
 
 " Got to water the mare and her colt, and stake her 
 out," answered Terry, business-like. " Feed the chick- 
 ens, first, and let 'em rustle. Suppose I'd better make 
 the garden." 
 
 " You feed the chickens while I'm clearing off the 
 table; and then we'll look about the ranch. I didn't 
 half see it last evening." 
 
 Terry threw the chickens a few handfuls of grain 
 and he noted that the grain sack was getting low. He 
 left the mare and her colt to wait a little longer, while 
 he and his mother toured the premises. 
 
 On the side of a small hill back of the cabin they 
 found the spring. Mr. Richards had hollowed it out, 
 so that the water stood two feet deep and could be 
 dipped up, clear and cold. Thence, from the edge of 
 the hole, it trickled away, and was lost in the sod. 
 
 " We ought to build a spring house, Terry," proposed 
 his mother. " Like we had back home in our other 
 home, I mean. We can lead the water nearer the 
 cabin, can't we, and set our butter and milk in it, to 
 keep them cool ! " 
 
74 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 "Sure," agreed Terry, manfully. "And we can 
 sink a barrel with a lid on it, for dipping water out of." 
 
 That was one job. The dugout, too and Terry 
 figured on how he could add the spring house to it and 
 lead the water there would require fixing over. His 
 mother thought they should have better steps into it, 
 and it needed more shelves, and the roof leaked. An- 
 other job. And the window sashes must be attached 
 to the cabin windows, before the flies got too bad. And 
 the wagon still contained a mass of stuff which must 
 be distributed ; and the wagon top ought to be removed, 
 so that the wagon might be stowed in under cover, out 
 of the rain. But the kitchen garden seemed to be of 
 the most urgent importance, and before she went in 
 to set the cabin more to rights, Terry's mother selected 
 the place where the garden should be digged. 
 
 He took the mare and her colt to water. The creek 
 was a dandy, by daylight ; quite wide, and looked deep 
 and " fishy," and he made up his mind that he'd try 
 it with hook and line just as soon as he could get 
 an hour or two off. If it had fish in it, what luck! 
 He looked well at the timber patch, for the turkeys, 
 or whatever they were; but he didn't see any. It 
 was a large patch, a real little forest, thick with brush 
 and trees : a good haunt for that beast. Shep kept well 
 clear of it, which was suspicious; and at the creek's 
 edge the mare snorted and stared about before drink- 
 ing. And see there in the soft mud just above, 
 was the beast's track, again ! 
 
 It was clearly imprinted five toes, forming a fringe 
 for a round pad impressed the size of his hand. Now 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 75 
 
 Shep had found it, and sniffing, shrank, to cower 
 back, growling. The track alone was enough for Shep, 
 who rarely before had showed such fear. Pondering, 
 Terry conducted the old mare back, toward the cabin, 
 and staked her out to graze. He stripped the rattle- 
 snake of its skin, and tacked the split hide broadside 
 on the cabin. Threw the carcass to the chickens. Now 
 he must tackle the garden. 
 
 His mother, bustling about the cabin and actually 
 singing, occasionally looked out, to watch the prog- 
 ress. Terry sweated and puffed, wielding the spade. 
 Whew, but this was hard work ! The prairie sod was 
 thick and tough, forming a mat laid firmly and trod- 
 den ever more firm by the march of the years. It was 
 full of the roots of sage and other shrubs, and Terry's 
 spade was constantly getting tangled. In fact, he had 
 to fight for every inch, before he could tear the spade- 
 fuls loose and turn them over. 
 
 " I don't believe you can ever do it, Terry," spoke 
 his mother, surveying him as he stopped to take breath 
 and wipe his face. 
 
 " You wait," replied Terry, struck with a thought. 
 " I'll use the plow." He dropped the spade and hustled 
 away. 
 
 The plow was in pieces, having been taken apart 
 so as to be packed easier. It was a new plow, but all 
 the bolts were hanging to it, and after a little figuring 
 and about half an hour's tussle he had it put together. 
 Then he must yoke Spot and Buck and bring them up, 
 and attach them to it. He knew how to drive them, 
 at least, whether or not he knew how to plow; that 
 
;6 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 he would learn, somehow. He might as well begin 
 now as later. 
 
 His mother stood watching, as at his word Buck and 
 Spot dragged the plow on its side, to position, and with 
 a heave he turned it upright. Now, he supposed, all 
 that he need do was to hold to the handles and bid 
 the oxen go ahead, and keep them in a straight line. 
 
 "Buck! Spot! Yip! Yip with you! Haw, Buck! 
 Now! Hep! Gwan!" 
 
 They tugged; with a jump the plow blade bit into 
 the sod, almost burying itself, and stuck fast, throwing 
 Terry forward between the handles. Whew ! 
 
 "Whoa, Buck! Spot! Whoa, now." And swing- 
 ing his legs and bearing down hard Terry gradually 
 raised the blade. He must not let it dig so deep, again. 
 "Gwan! Yip, Buck! Spot! Gee! Whoa-oa, gee! 
 Now! Yip! Yip!" 
 
 Pitching Terry to and fro, and tearing his arms in 
 their sockets, the plow forged ahead, sometimes ripping 
 the sod in a great welt of rich black earth, again skip- 
 ping a notch or two and barely scratching the surface. 
 But Terry was afraid to halt, and drove on to the end, 
 where he stopped the team and looked back. His 
 mother was laughing. 
 
 " Why, Terry," she said. " You're cutting a pattern. 
 Is that easier than digging with the spade ? " 
 
 Terry scratched his head, and grinned. That was a 
 funny furrow as crooked as a rabbit track in the 
 brush ! 
 
 " Well, I've got to learn," he asserted. " It's harder 
 than it looks, though. I can finish with the spade." 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 77 
 
 He turned Buck and Spot about, and started around. 
 He did a little better, although with many a " Haw ! " 
 and " Whoa! " and " Gee! " He was making a fine 
 straight furrow, barring a few bulges to right and left ; 
 the plow certainly beat the spade, for cutting the sod, 
 and progressed with a series of pops as it snapped the 
 tough roots. The worst feature was those big roots, 
 of the shrubs. Once in a while they proved to be verit- 
 able tartars, snagging the blade fast, throwing Terry 
 into the handles, and then suddenly bursting loose 
 with a jerk that wrenched him almost in two. The 
 plow was stronger than he, he found. 
 
 Still, he determined to stick at it, and take his medi- 
 cine. If he was to be a man and run the ranch, he 
 certainly must know how to plow. And shaking his 
 head when his mother urged him to quit and rest, he 
 was so interested in making each furrow better than 
 the others, that the hail of a new voice came so unex- 
 pectedly as to make him jump. 
 
 "What do you think you're doing? Plowing?" 
 
 It was George Stanton, sitting on a horse a spotted 
 horse and eying him critically. 
 
 " Sure," answered Terry. " Beats spading. Where* d 
 you come from ? " And he trudged over, to shake 
 hands. He was tremendously glad to see George, and 
 he was rather proud to have been found hard at work, 
 like a regular ranchman. That plowed patch showed 
 up in great shape. It was no shucks of a patch, even 
 if some of the furrows were crooked ! 
 
 " Pop and I rode up from Manhattan. We're going 
 back and get the outfit. Say, did you know our ranch 
 
78 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 joins yours, right south ? Well, it's so. I was hoping 
 this was your cabin, when I saw it. I rode over on 
 purpose to spy out. Come on and go back with me, 
 and I'll show you where we live. You haven't got to 
 plow, have you? Where's your father? " 
 
 That sobered Terry. Where was his father? He 
 didn't mind the plowing, but oh, pshaw, his father! 
 
 " Why, he isn't here. My father isn't here. He fell 
 off the horse in the creek, when we were crossing, and 
 we don't know where he is. We can't find him, but 
 we've his hat, and I'm getting things in shape until he 
 
 comes." 
 
 " Is he coming, sure ? " asked George, much aston- 
 ished. 
 
 " Of course he is," declared Terry. " Ma thinks 
 so and so do I." 
 
 " Aren't you going to look for him ? " 
 
 " We did look for him, till we had to move on and 
 get someplace before dark. And a man named Sol 
 Judy's helping us. He found the hat, away up in the 
 willows ; didn't he, ma ? " For Mrs. Richards was 
 standing in the door of the cabin, ready to greet George. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Won't you come in, George ? It's nearly dinner 
 time." 
 
 " No, 'm ; thank you. I've got to go back. Is that 
 the truth Terry's telling me about his father? I'm 
 awful sorry." 
 
 " Yes, it's the truth ; but his f ather'll come, we're 
 sure. We sha'n't give him up; shall we, Terry! We 
 did look for him, but it's such a big country, and there 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 79 
 
 are so few people, we don't know exactly what to do. 
 You can tell your father to keep a watch-out for him, 
 will you ? He's wandered off, we think. Terry's doing 
 the man's work, you see. We ought to get our garden 
 in; so he can't go back with you, now." 
 
 " I'm awful sorry," repeated George. " Yes, I'll 
 tell pop, and I'll bring him over as soon as I can. We 
 can help you out, too. Our house'll be only about a 
 mile and a step from here, other side of that hill. We 
 all can go to and fro easy. Did you kill that snake? 
 He's a whopper." 
 
 " Yes ; he was under the floor. And we had another 
 caller last night. Some old animal howled around and 
 scared Shep and the horses and ma and me, too, so I 
 went out and shot at him, right beside the corral. His 
 tracks are there yet." 
 
 "Whereabouts? Did you hit him? Lemme see," 
 demanded George, excited and tumbling off his horse. 
 
 " Along the fence, other side the corral," directed 
 Terry. 
 
 Away ran George, and examined. 
 
 " I should say ! " he panted, coming back. " I know 
 what that was. It was a panther. We had one in the 
 timber near our farm in Indiana. You want to look 
 out. He'll take all your chickens and that colt. He was 
 after the colt last night, I bet you. Panthers would 
 rather have a colt than anything else." 
 
 " Goodness me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Richards. " I 
 guess it was. I never thought about a panther." 
 
 "He lives down in that timber, yonder. That's 
 where he lives," asserted George, importantly. " I'll 
 tell pop and he'll come over and shoot him for you." 
 
80 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Shucks ! " said Terry. " We've got a lot of turkeys 
 wild turkeys roosting in that timber. We saw 'em 
 last night ; didn't we, ma ! I'm going down there and 
 get one, and if Mr. Panther shows up I'll get him, too." 
 
 " Maybe he'll get you" retorted George. " Wait for 
 us, and we'll all go after him." 
 
 " I'm not afraid of him," called Terry, as George 
 galloped off with a wave of his hand. 
 
 " Don't talk foolishly, Terry," rebuked his mother. 
 " You'd better not meddle with that panther until he 
 meddles with you. If you aren't afraid of him you 
 ought to be. Brave people aren't ashamed to be 
 afraid." 
 
 " Well, he can't have our colt," declared Terry, stub- 
 bornly. " He was after it last night and maybe he'll 
 be after it again to-night. Anyhow, I can go down 
 after a turkey, can't I ? " 
 
 " Sometimes," smiled his mother. " But I'll go, too, 
 to look after you." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " scoffed Terry. " I've got to learn to 
 take care of myself, haven't I ? I'll have to go lots of 
 places where you can't go, if I run this ranch." And 
 he resumed his plowing. 
 
 He kept steadily at it until dinner; and really, he 
 accomplished a great deal. In fact, the garden was 
 about all plowed. Next he would finish it with the 
 spade, and then he'd have to rake out the roots, and 
 smooth it over, and put in the seeds. More than one 
 day would be required, to make that garden which 
 was a big one, for corn and potatoes and squash and 
 everything. Anyway, the plowed ground was a be- 
 ginning, and gave the place a farm look. 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 81 
 
 His mother had done wonders, in tidying the inside 
 of the cabin and driving pegs to hang things on; and 
 after dinner she had Terry help her while she stretched 
 muslin against the ceiling of the loft, also, and tacked 
 it there, as a dust preventer. The loft had a much 
 more cosy air. 
 
 " We must shingle that roof some day, Terry," she 
 said. " Your father put the sod on because it was 
 quicker, but he said it wouldn't be permanent. It's so 
 dirty, and it's liable to get soaked through and drip 
 mud." 
 
 "I'll shingle it," assured Terry. "Got to have 
 shingles, first." 
 
 " Maybe Mr. Stanton will know how to make them," 
 she proposed. " A sod roof is very warm, though, 
 they claim; and I suppose the longer it stays the harder 
 it gets." 
 
 " We can plant some vegetables up there, ma," 
 chuckled Terry. " It's growing hay for us, already." 
 
 " And sun-flowers," added his mother. " I saw a 
 sun-flower with a bud." 
 
 Terry had thought to finish the garden to-day, but 
 after dinner he was easily persuaded to change off. 
 The plow handles had blistered his palms, his back 
 felt twisted, and he had barked his shins against various 
 obstacles, until he was rather of a wreck. Yet this 
 garden patch was nothing as compared with the half 
 mile square of acres waiting to be disposed of. 
 
 This afternoon all that he did was to remove the 
 hood from the wagon, by stripping off the canvas and 
 extracting the hickory bows from their sockets; and 
 
82 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 to take most of the stuff out of the wagon ; and with his 
 mother's help to back the wagon under the shed. 
 
 By the time this had been accomplished it was almost 
 sunset, and he thought upon those turkeys. In his 
 opinion he deserved a turkey, and so did his mother. 
 Of course, at first she didn't want him to go. 
 
 " I'll just be down at the edge of the timber, ma," 
 he explained, " and watch there, and when the turkeys 
 come in to roost I'll shoot one and hurry right home." 
 
 " You won't go into the timber, Terry ? " she 
 cautioned. 
 
 " No, 'm." 
 
 " And you won't stay long, and you'll stay where I 
 can see you ? " 
 
 " But I'll have to hide, ma," protested Terry. " If 
 you see me the turkeys*!! see me, too." 
 
 Finally she said that he might go; and slinging on 
 powder-flask and shot-pouch, taking Shep and the gun 
 he hurried off before she changed her mind. He 
 couldn't stay long, anyway, because he had the chores 
 to do. 
 
 The creek skirted the edge of the timber. He had an 
 idea that the turkeys would drink, before going to bed ; 
 and that if he hid between the water and the trees he'd 
 have a better chance. So he crossed the creek by a 
 series of fast jumps, at a shallow place, and was on the 
 edge of the timber. 
 
 He halted, and peered in, and listened. Now in the 
 daylight, with Shep and the gun, he was not a bit 
 afraid of any panther if he could only see it. He 
 couldn't see it. A panther would be very silly to sit 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 83 
 
 out in sight. But the timber was a great place. A 
 panther ought to like all that brush and those thickly 
 branched trees ; yet perhaps he wasn't here at all. Terry 
 cautiously advanced, his every sense alert for danger, 
 and at his heels Shep imitated him. 
 
 A semi-circle of flowering bushes, on the edge of the 
 timber, fronting the creek and giving a view up and 
 down the creek, seemed to offer a splendid ambush 
 for turkeys. He could see the cabin from it, too and 
 his mother, who had stood watching him ever since he 
 had left. He waved at her figure, and she waved back; 
 and then he sank into hiding. Shep crouched beside 
 him. 
 
 It was pleasant here, with the low sun flooding the 
 landscape, and scarce a sound to be heard except the 
 twittering of a few birds. All the broad valley basked 
 in evening. Shep went to sleep, and Terry had about 
 concluded that they both were due to return to chores 
 without their turkey, when he heard a peculiar little 
 piping babble. He strained his ears, and gazed 
 nervously up and down the creek. That babble was 
 turkey babble, just as on a farm ! Shep had awakened, 
 and with ears pricked he, also, was gazing around. 
 
 Hah ! There they came the turkeys, ambling along 
 the creek, on this side, as if they might have alighted 
 just beyond, or have emerged from the timber. Led 
 by a fussy big gobbler, they were pecking about, or 
 preening themselves, as they crossed a curve of the 
 creek course, where the brush was thin and low and 
 sunny. This evidently was their feeding and drinking 
 hour, before they went to roost. 
 
84 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 What huge, beautiful birds they were ! Larger than 
 tame turkeys, and much more shiny. The big gobbler's 
 mighty breast glinted as if he wore a coat of brazen 
 mail, and his broad tail spread like an aurora borealis 
 or at least like the pictures of one. 
 
 The flock of turkeys were heading in Terry's direc- 
 tion, and if he waited long enough they were likely to 
 come right within gunshot of the ambush. He watched 
 them, hoping and admiring. He made up his mind to 
 choose one of the smaller birds, and not the big old 
 gobbler who was the father of the flock. On a sudden, 
 while his mind was full of turkey, he heard a peculiar 
 scratchy noise behind him. Around he twisted, very 
 quick. 
 
 From the crotch of the nearest tree, only about ten 
 yards away, back of him, the panther, or a panther, 
 standing, snarled at him an instant, then leaped lightly 
 to the ground and was gone. Terry stared, almost 
 paralyzed with astonishment. Of course it was a 
 panther a long-bodied, long-tailed, round-faced tawny 
 cat, larger than Shep; and such a mouth, flannel red 
 and set with glistening white fangs ! Why, that panther 
 must have been lying in the tree all the time, probably 
 watching him and Shep; and the scratchy sound was 
 the sound of its claws when it rose to leap down. 
 
 Half rising, clutching his cocked gun, Terry listened, 
 and searched the brush with wide eyes. Shep was 
 trembling. He didn't like panthers; they were new 
 to him. Now the turkeys were murmuring inquiringly, 
 with heads up and see, the panther was stalking them. 
 That was why he had left the tree. He preferred 
 
TERRY MEETS THE ENEMY 85 
 
 turkey to boy or dog. Terry glimpsed the tawny shape 
 of him, low against the ground, crawling cat-like from 
 bush to bush, over near the turkey flock. 
 
 Inconceivably swift, and even before the turkeys 
 had located him or Terry was real certain, himself, the 
 panther had launched in two springs : the first carried 
 him into the open, the second instantly carried him on 
 top of a turkey the big gobbler himself. With a 
 chorus of frightened peeps the rest of the flock scat- 
 tered and disappeared, leaving there in the open space 
 the great cat, crouched, the big turkey under his spread 
 paws just like any cat with a captured bird. 
 
 The turkey either was dead, or numbed with fright, 
 for he made never a move. The panther's long tail 
 switched from side to side, as he glared about, chal- 
 lenging anybody to dispute him. That made Terry 
 mad. Why, the panther had picked out the best turkey 
 in the flock ; Terry had wanted that turkey for himself, 
 but had passed him by because he was so kingly and 
 was the father of the flock. And now the panther had 
 taken him. Up bobbed Terry, and forward he charged, 
 shouting angrily. 
 
 " Get out o' there! Drop that turkey! Drop him, 
 I say!" 
 
 The great cat's eyes narrowed they were yellow 
 eyes and blazed with a cruel green light, while flat to 
 his head fell his ears and his mouth opened in a 
 prodigious savage snarl. Terry could see past his 
 inch-long fangs and his curled red tongue, far into his 
 crimson throat. His round face was the face of a 
 demon. He did not mean to budge. Shep barked 
 wildly, but kept close to his master. 
 
86 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 To Terry's shoulder jumped his gun his father's 
 gun, that is ; longer than he was tall. " Bang ! Bang ! " 
 spoke both barrels, almost at once. Terry scarcely was 
 conscious of taking aim, he was so indignant at the 
 panther ; but with the reports the panther gave a spring 
 straight into the air, and rolling over and over threshed 
 about on the ground, making a bloody trail. Shep 
 darted forward 
 
 "Shep! Come here, Shep! Here! Quit it!" 
 ordered Terry, so excited that he was forgetting to re- 
 load. 
 
 Shep had boldly closed with the writhing cat; the 
 two hind paws caught him in the chest and with a con- 
 vulsive kick sent him flying head over heels a dozen 
 feet away. But even by the time Shep had gathered 
 himself together, somewhat subdued, the panther was 
 quiet; the kick had been his last effort. To tell the 
 truth, Terry had shot his head almost off, and what- 
 ever he had done he had done blindly. Now he was 
 stretched and motionless ; he was a dead panther. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 HARD WORK AHEAD 
 
 TERRY stood panting, not quite certain that a panther 
 with head blown to smithereens was done being dan- 
 gerous. Shep, a long red scratch down his chest, where 
 the animal's claws had ripped him, advanced, bristles 
 up, tail low, nose out-stretched to smell. He sniffed 
 gingerly, in a circle, before he gained confidence to get 
 within striking distance. But the panther did not stir. 
 Now the turkey *piped feebly, and rustled in the grass, 
 and drew Terry's attention. He had forgotten the big 
 gobbler. 
 
 The big gobbler wasn't dead, but he was badly 
 shaken. One wing hung as if broken, and his neck was 
 crooked from a bite apparently clear through it. They 
 cautiously approached him. A turkey gobbler was no 
 mean enemy, when fighting mad. However, this gob- 
 bler was harmless. His eyes were closed with a film, 
 and although he fluttered about, it was in a dazed, 
 drunken fashion. 
 
 " Get away, Shep," ordered Terry, to the curious 
 Shep, And he added, with a great idea : " I'm going 
 to take him home." 
 
 It required considerable nerve to touch that gobbler, 
 harmless though he might be. Terry busily stripped 
 
88 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 off his coat, and throwing it over the gobbler tied the 
 arms, thus wrapping him securely. The gobbler was 
 too sick to resist; in fact, the handling seemed to 
 frighten him; maybe he thought that the panther had 
 returned to finish him. At any rate he cowed right 
 down, as if dying, and let Terry do with him as was 
 necessary. 
 
 Now Terry was in a fix. That turkey weighed 
 scandalously. He could scarcely carry him and the 
 gun, too. He laid the turkey carefully down and con- 
 sidered the panther. The panther was longer than 
 Terry ; his tail alone no, not his tail, but her tail, for 
 Terry saw that it was a she panther instead of a torn 
 was longer than Terry. He might have slung the 
 panther over his shoulder and dragged her that way, 
 and he much wanted to do it, for his mother to see; 
 but there was the big turkey, trussed and waiting. 
 Well, he couldn't leave the gobbler, for some other 
 panther to get, maybe ; and he certainly was not going 
 to waste his panther, either. The sun had set, and 
 dusk was oozing in amidst the brush. 
 
 "Whoo-ee?" He heard a high hail. His mother's 
 voice. He stood up and looked toward the cabin. 
 There she was, already half way, and hastening 
 anxiously on, summoned by the shots. Good for her! 
 He yodeled back, and waved, and beckoned to her, and 
 ran to meet her. 
 
 " What is it, Terry? What did you shoot? A tur- 
 key?" 
 
 " No, but I've got a turkey, and something else, too. 
 Come and see." 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 89 
 
 " I can't cross the creek." 
 
 " All right. Wait a minute." 
 
 Away he dashed, pkshing recklessly through the 
 water, and grabbed the turkey. He staggered with it, 
 across again, to his mother, 
 
 "Why, Terry!" 
 
 " It's hurt, ma. I didn't shoot it. A panther jumped 
 it. We'll take it home. Maybe it'll get well. It's a big 
 old gobbler, king of the flock. Now wait a minute 
 
 more." 
 
 He placed the helpless gobbler at her feet, and back 
 he sped, to get the panther. He made no bones of 
 catching her by the limp tail (it was like a furry rope) 
 and hind legs, and hoisting her on his shoulder, where 
 she doubled over and dragged fore and aft. Clutching 
 his faithful gun, away he went. 
 
 It was hard to tell which was Terry and which was 
 panther. No wonder, when he approached, breathless 
 and gory, that his mother threw up her two hands and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Terry ! Land o' goodness ! Where did you get 
 that awful creature ? " 
 
 " I shot it, ma," panted Terry. " It's a panther a 
 regular panther. She jumped the turkey and I popped 
 her. I shot her head off . See? Wish I hadn't. You 
 ought to have seen her open her mouth at me! Shep 
 was afraid, too. She sent him flying. It was lucky for 
 him she hadn't any head left. Look where she 
 scratched him up ? " 
 
 " But, Terry! What on earth are you going to do 
 with her?" 
 
90 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Take her home, of course. Skin her. Don't be- 
 lieve she's good to eat. You carry the turkey and Til 
 carry her." 
 
 " Don't you come near me, though/' warned his 
 mother. " Isn't the turkey dead, too ? " And she 
 gently picked up the gobbler, wrapped in Terry's coat 
 with his blue head sticking out and dangling. 
 
 " No, not unless his neck's broken. The panther bit 
 it. I don't think it's broken, though. His wing is. 
 But we can mend his wing. We'll keep him, anyhow ; 
 and if he gets well we'll tame him. Maybe I can catch 
 
 some more." 
 
 So they trudged homeward, bearing the spoils of the 
 chase; and a strange spectacle they made. Terry felt 
 like a mighty hunter ; much more so than when plowing 
 a garden. To think, here he had gone out just a little 
 way from the cabin, and on his own land his and his 
 father's and mother's had got a wild turkey and a big 
 panther ! Huh ! Wait till he showed George Stanton ! 
 And there was the rattlesnake, too ! 
 
 At the cabin he dumped the panther, and then he and 
 his mother unwrapped the turkey and examined him. 
 Yes, his wing was broken, but his neck wasn't. Some- 
 how, although the panther's fangs had penetrated 
 through and through, they had missed the bones. One 
 more bite was needed. Still, the gobbler was pretty 
 sick. They bound his wing close to his side, and en- 
 circled his wounded neck with a strip of flannel, and put 
 him into the coop in which the chickens had ridden. 
 There they left him, with water and a little corn. He 
 lay just as they had placed him, so they stretched a 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 91 
 
 gunny-sack over the front of the coop, to shield 
 him. 
 
 Terry couldn't fuss with the panther any more just 
 now, for the chores were to be done. The old mare 
 and her colt must be led to water as usual, and the 
 chickens must be shut up, and wood must be brought 
 in to the stove, and the waterpail must be filled, and so 
 forth and so forth. He promised himself that he 
 would skin the panther after supper, or maybe in the 
 morning. 
 
 He brought in an armful of wood, and a pail of 
 water, and went for the mare. She snorted at him, 
 and pulled back. 
 
 " It's your shirt and trousers, Terry," called his 
 mother. " You're all blood. I don't believe you can 
 do a thing with her until you change. You ought to 
 change, anyway." 
 
 That was queer. No, sir; the old mare was afraid 
 of him. She smelled the panther. Therefore he had 
 to bolt up to his loft and change his clothes. Even then 
 she was very suspicious. 
 
 The quicker the panther's pelt was tackled, the easier 
 would it be removed. But after supper Terry was 
 simply too dog-tired to sit up. That had been a long 
 day, beginning with the plowing and ending with the 
 hunt. Besides, his mother wouldn't let him bring the 
 panther carcass into the cabin, because of the muss he 
 would make with it ; and to skin it outdoors by candle 
 flicker would take all night, about. Anyway hee-yaw ! 
 And yawning so widely that his mouth rivaled the 
 panther's, carrying his candle he climbed the ladder, to 
 bed. That was a good place. 
 
92 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Terry was determined to beat his mother at getting 
 up, in the morning, and to make a start on the panther 
 before breakfast. The night passed peacefully; and 
 when the sun rose, he had risen, too. He stole softly 
 down, boots in his hands, and presently was busy with 
 butcher-knife and panther. 
 
 He had " skinned " musk-rats and rabbits and 
 squirrels, back in his other home, but this great animal 
 was a different matter. The pelt was so thick ! He was 
 working hard, and his mother was at last stirring 
 around, when he heard the soft hoof-thuds of a pony. 
 Shep growled, then barked. Terry hastily looked up 
 from his bloody task (of which he was sick already) 
 and saw trotting across the prairie bottom, toward the 
 cabin, two riders. Indians! Yes, but Delawares, for 
 one was young General Jackson ! 
 
 Terry paused, squatting over the panther carcass, 
 and waved greeting. 
 
 " How-do-do ? " said General Jackson, halting his 
 pony. " Where get 'urn? " 
 
 Terry rose, gory and cramped. 
 
 " Down in the timber." 
 
 "WhokilPum?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 "Huh! When kill 'urn?" 
 
 " Last night." 
 
 "Youkill'um? AlPlone?" 
 
 " That' s right. Shot her head off," asserted Terry, 
 proudly. 
 
 General Jackson seemed unbelieving. He grunted a 
 few syllables to his companion, and dismounted from 
 his pony, for a closer inspection. 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 93 
 
 "How see 'urn?" 
 
 " She was yelling 'round the house, the night before, 
 and when I went out she was at the corral, sneaking 
 on the horses. Shot at her then, but didn't hit her. 
 Then I went down to the timber after turkeys, and she 
 was right in a tree watching me but I didn't know it 
 till she jumped out after the turkeys." General Jack- 
 son was listening intently; he nodded and grunted. 
 Terry continued. " She lit on top of a turkey, and I 
 ran out at her and popped her. Gee, she was mad till 
 I blew her head off. And I got the turkey, too. He's 
 in a coop. Maybe he's going to live." 
 
 " Didn't kill turkey? " queried General Jackson. 
 
 " No. Broke his wing and bit him in the neck, is 
 all." 
 
 The other Indian, who was very dark and short, 
 reached and patted Terry on the shoulder and uttered 
 some words. 
 
 " That Black Beaver. Big Delaware hunter," quoth 
 General Jackson. " He say you brave boy ; heap brave. 
 Huh ! You no kill 'um panther, 'urn panther kill you. 
 Humph ! Heap panther. She panther more bad than 
 he panther. You be big hunter, too. When Delaware 
 kill panther, Delaware proud. What you do now ? " 
 
 " I'm skinning her," explained Terry. " Isn't good 
 to eat, is she ? You want any ? " 
 
 General Jackson drew back quickly, and shook his 
 head. 
 
 "No. Delaware no eat panther. Bad medicine; 
 make bad luck. 'Um fur no good ; not now. Fur loose 
 see ? " and reaching he plucked out a fingcrf ul of 
 
94 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 hair; evidently the panther was shedding, the season 
 being warm spring. " Nail 'um up, on cabin ; tell odder 
 panthers keep away. Mebbe you wear claws 'round 
 neck. Tell 'um people you big hunter; kill panther." 
 
 Terry hadn't thought of that! It sounded like a 
 great scheme, though. He looked reflectively at the 
 carcass, half pealed. Shucks! Then the fur wasn't 
 any use, was it ? Anyway, he could tack the pelt up, to 
 dry; it would make a showing, beside the rattlesnake 
 skin. Meanwhile the two Delawares were fingering the 
 carcass, and were especially interested in the long tail, 
 and the paws. 
 
 " You know how skin panther? " demanded General 
 Jackson. " Me show." 
 
 He examined Terry's butcher-knife, shook his head 
 at the dullness of point and blade, whipped out his own 
 knife from its beaded sheath, and with Black Beaver 
 holding the carcass and turning it, cut the pelt away 
 with astonishing rapidity. He accomplished more in 
 ten minutes than Terry had accomplished in an hour. 
 
 " Nail 'um up," he bade. " No dress 'um. Not good 
 'nough. Better one 'nodder time. Mebbe get 'um he 
 panther, when 'um come looking for 'urn's squaw." 
 
 "Why? Will there be another one?" demanded 
 Terry, excited. 
 
 General Jackson nodded. 
 
 " One 'um, two 'um," he said, holding up two fingers 
 and Black Beaver, as if understanding, nodded also. 
 " One 'um she panther, one 'um he panther. Kill 'um 
 snake ? " he asked, seeing the rattler's skin. 
 
 " Sure," answered Terry, feeling quite set up with 
 himself. 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 95 
 
 " Huh ! " approved General Jackson. He and Black 
 Beaver were cutting the panther's claws from the pads. 
 They were long, cruel claws, sharp as needles and 
 curved wickedly. 
 
 " Make 'um neck," he proffered meaning necklace. 
 " Put on boy. Know how ? " 
 
 Terry wasn't certain that he did. 
 
 " Me take 'um, have squaw make 'um/' proffered 
 General Jackson. " Bring 'um back. All right? " 
 
 " Why yes; much obliged," replied Terry. " Will 
 you?" " 
 
 General Jackson tucked the claws away in a pouch 
 that he wore. He turned and went back to his pony, 
 and untied from it a large, bulky package that looked 
 like deer hide. This he handed to Terry. 
 
 " Meat," he said. " Mebbe you eat 'um. You 
 mudder, mebbe she eat 'um. You f adder, mebbe he eat 
 'um. Good; 'um deer." 
 
 " Is that for us? " exclaimed Terry. " Thanks ever 
 so much. You kill it?" 
 
 " Um," noddecl General Jackson. " Send 'um, my 
 mudder. Cure 'um eyes, your mudder. Swap. Heap 
 glad." 
 
 " Look at this, ma," cried Terry, to his mother who 
 had appeared in the doorway. " Deer meat a lot of 
 it," for wrapped in its hide was almost half a deer. 
 " General Jackson brought it. We'll have some for 
 breakfast." 
 
 " That's very kind of him, I'm sure," she responded, 
 warmly ; and she smiled greeting to the two Delawares. 
 " Have them wait a minute." In she whisked, to re- 
 appear with the coffee-pot and two tin cups. 
 
96 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Put in plenty of sugar," warned Terry, wisely. 
 
 " I did," she informed. 
 
 General Jackson and Black Beaver were nothing 
 loth to accept the coffee, and drank each two brimming 
 cups of it, heavily sugared. 
 
 " Go, now," quoth General Jackson. " Come again. 
 G'bye." 
 
 He and Black Beaver gravely shook hands with 
 Terry and his mother, and turned to the ponies. 
 
 " You know my father ? " Terry asked, of General 
 Jackson, out of sudden thought. " He's gone ; lost ; 
 fell in creek, off of pony. If you see him, let us 
 know." 
 
 " Mebbe so see 'um," grunted General Jackson. 
 " Come again, soon. Take white boy on big hunt. 
 White boy heap hunter. G'bye," and evidently with 
 high respect for a boy who had killed a panther, he and 
 Black Beaver loped away. 
 
 " We've got meat enough for a week, now, ma," 
 announced Terry, in high feather. " General Jackson 
 rode over on purpose to give it to us, because you cured 
 his mother's eyes. And they helped me skin the 
 panther, and I'm going to tack the skin up for other 
 panthers to see and take notice. There'll be this 
 panther's husband around, they say. But the fur's no 
 good this time of year. It's all loose. General Jackson 
 says I ought to wear the claws for a necklace; he's 
 taken them with him, to string 'em. I guess those 
 Delawares'll be friends of ours." 
 
 " We'll hang the meat in the shade, after I've cut 
 some off for breakfast," answered his mother. " I'll 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 97 
 
 have to make another pot of coffee. You can be wash- 
 ing. You're a perfect sight. How's the turkey ? " 
 
 " Haven't had time to look at him yet. Want to 
 tack this skin up, first, to dry. Then I'll wash and then 
 I'll look at the gobbler." 
 
 Terry had just time enough to tack the skin, inside 
 out, against the logs of the cabin, and to wash his 
 hands, before the coffee and breakfast were ready. 
 The venison had been sizzling for five minutes. It 
 tasted even better than it smelled. Tender ? Um-m-m ! 
 And sweet ? Um-m-m ! Hurrah for General Jackson ! 
 
 " As soon as I get time I'm going out and find deer 
 for ourselves," proclaimed Terry. " There'll be some 
 around, now I've killed that panther." 
 
 "First you'll finish that garden, won't you?" 
 laughed his mother. " The garden's important. And 
 you know we must get our ranch in shape, before 
 winter. There's lots to be done oh, lots and lots." 
 
 " That's so," admitted Terry, soberly. Things didn't 
 look very favorable for hunting and other fun ; not to a 
 boy who had to do the work of a man. " Anyway," he 
 added, " maybe I can go on a big hunt with the Dela- 
 wares, sometime; just once. They want to take me." 
 
 " I hope so," agreed his mother. " Now let's look 
 at the turkey, and then you do your chores and I'll 
 do mine, and after that you can finish the garden." 
 
 "Do you think dad'll turn up to-day?" ventured 
 Terry. 
 
 " Perhaps," and when he saw his mother's eyes, fill 
 he wished that he hadn't spoken so. But she smiled 
 again, and kissed him. " If he doesn't he may come to- 
 
98 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 morrow, or next day; and we'll work right ahead, so as 
 to make a big showing when he does come." 
 
 There was good news from the gobbler. He was 
 on his feet, and had eaten some corn. His neck was 
 still crooked, but it had begun to heal, and probably his 
 wing was healing, too. At any rate, he was much more 
 lively, and was better than a dozen dead turkeys. How- 
 ever, he didn't like to be looked in at ; he cowered and 
 pressed to the back side of the coop, for he still was 
 wild. So they closed him in again, and left him alone. 
 
 " I really think he's going to get well," declared 
 Terry's mother. " What'll we do with him? " 
 
 " Keep him, and I'll catch a hen turkey in a trap 
 and we'll raise young ones," proposed Terry, gleefully. 
 " I'll make a pen for him." 
 
 Terry did his chores. He buried the panther carcass. 
 Then came the garden ; oh, what a job, just as yester- 
 day ! He had finished plowing, and was attaching the 
 oxen to the harrow, so as to rake off the brush and 
 clods, when who should come galloping up but Mr. 
 Stanton and George. This gave him a chance to stand 
 and ease his aching back. 
 
 " You can't harrow that, my boy," at once exclaimed 
 Mr. Stanton. " Your harrow teeth will get all clogged. 
 What you want is a drag. Have you heard from your 
 father?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Terry. " Have you? " 
 
 " Not a sign, I'm sorry to say. But he's somewhere. 
 I feel certain of that. Don't give him up. Good- 
 morning, Mrs. Richards. We're ridden over on a 
 neighborly call, is all." 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 99 
 
 " Oh, pop ! Look at the big panther skin ! " cried 
 George. "Cracky! Who got him, Terry? You?" 
 
 " Terry's the one," affirmed Terry's mother. And 
 Terry could see that she was as proud as he. " He did 
 it all alone." 
 
 " That is a big one," appraised Mr. Stanton. " I 
 vow! And that's the rattler, too, is it? Good for 
 Terry ! Where'd you get the panther, Terry ? " 
 
 " Did you shoot him yourself ? " demanded George, 
 eagerly. 
 
 Terry had to tell all about it, again ; and at mention 
 of the Dela wares and the necklace and the venison 
 George was roundly envious. 
 
 " Shucks ! And I've done nothing but help build 
 our house," he complained. " Wish a panther would 
 come on our land." 
 
 " I don't," asserted his father. " We aren't looking 
 for panthers. Now," he added, to Terry, " if we can 
 find a rail I'll show you how to polish off that garden 
 patch in short order. Got any spikes ? " 
 
 " Not many," confessed Terry, ruefully. " Dad 
 didn't bring many nails. Suppose I'll have to buy 
 some." 
 
 Even in 1858 nails were not very common in the 
 west of the United States. Wooden pins were used 
 for fastening rafters and large boards. This cabin 
 erected by Terry's father had scarcely a nail in it. But 
 in the emigrant outfit Mr. Richards had included a 
 handful of rough, hand-made spikes, and Terry ran to 
 get them. 
 
 " Those will do," nodded Mr. Stanton. " Now for 
 
ioo THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 the rail. As soon as we get our fences up there'll be 
 plenty of rails." 
 
 A rough-sawed plank ten feet long, two inches thick 
 and eight or ten inches wide had been laid over the 
 eaves of the shed, as if to hold the sod in place. They 
 took this down, drove the spikes into the flat of it, 
 until the heads projected about eight inches, in a row. 
 The ox-chain and a rope were run from either end of 
 the plank, to the yoke of Buck and Spot ; and standing 
 on the middle of the plank, to hold it down, Mr. Stanton 
 rode the length of the garden patch, dragging a space 
 as wide as the plank was long. The spikes were under- 
 most ; and caught the brush and weeds in great style. 
 
 Having witnessed, Terry mounted. The plank of 
 course bucked and jumped, and to ride it required quite 
 a knack. The gathered brush piled up in front in a 
 windrow, and when it was about to force him from his 
 foothold, he had to stop and clear it away by armfuls. 
 But the job of riding was about as much fun (he im- 
 agined) as riding a boat through the breakers. 
 
 George cheered and whooped and was especially de- 
 lighted when Terry fell off. Mr. Stanton keenly 
 watched. 
 
 " I've a proposition to make to you, Terry," he said, 
 as Terry was turning the oxen again. " When you get 
 your garden in, and your mother can spare you for a 
 bit, fetch your span down to our place. A smart boy 
 and a yoke of oxen are worth money in this country. 
 I'll give you a dollar a day for you and your yoke, to 
 help us clear our land ; and to make things even George 
 and I'll help you clear yours. You can't break sod 
 
HARD WORK AHEAD 101 
 
 and put up fences alone. Will you swap labor with 
 a dollar a day to boot? " 
 
 " I will if ma'll let me," gasped Terry, overjoyed. 
 " Maybe I'll come to-morrow." 
 
 " All right. That's a bargain," spoke Mr. Stanton. 
 " Let's go home, George." 
 
 " Be sure and come," called back George, as they 
 cantered away. 
 
 Terry went on with his dragging. As he gaily rode 
 the plank, he felt that he and his mother were going 
 to manage very nicely. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE 
 
 TERRY finished the garden by the middle of the 
 afternoon. He planted it to potatoes (one eye to a 
 nill, for potatoes were valuable), sweet corn for the 
 table and yellow corn for meal, beets, turnips, carrots, 
 squash, pumpkin, beans, and peas. His mother was 
 rather doubtful as to the peas, because they were put 
 in so late; by the rich appearance of the ground the 
 other things ought to do finely. It was a large garden ; 
 it looked almost too large for one small family: but 
 what they didn't use when ripe they could store away. 
 Winter was coming, some day. They must prepare 
 for it, like the squirrels did. 
 
 He even had time to figure on the spring house, but 
 before he had begun actual work on it, his evening 
 chores called him. Those ranch days seemed all too 
 short, when there was everything to do, and little to do 
 with. 
 
 " You aren't afraid to stay alone, are you, ma ? " 
 he asked, in the morning, when he was about to start 
 for the Stanton place. 
 
 " You can leave me Shep," she said. " I won't be 
 afraid with him." 
 
 Shep would have preferred going to staying; but at 
 102 
 
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE 103 
 
 his master's " Go back, Shep ! You stay," stay he did 
 his ears pricked while he watched Terry trudge 
 away, driving Buck and Spot yoked together. 
 
 Terry felt rather important. Here he was, hired 
 out with self and team, already, like any man, to join 
 with other men in the settlement of the country. If, as 
 George's father had said, an ox-team and a boy were 
 worth money in Kansas, perhaps he could earn a whole 
 lot. 
 
 The oxen plodded slowly, dragging their chain. The 
 Stanton place proved not difficult to find. In about half 
 an hour he crossed the little divide, and on the other 
 side he saw the new cabin, which must be the Stanton 
 cabin, for no other cabin was in sight. Yes, the 
 Stanton place this was ; as now he approached, George 
 waved at him, little Virgie flourished her sunbonnet, 
 and Mrs. Stanton appeared in the doorway. 
 
 The Stantons had achieved much in a short time. 
 Their cabin was of rough-sawed new boards, instead 
 of logs, with a board roof also ; and their out-buildings 
 were of boards. Mr. Stanton had hired the hauling 
 done, from Fort Riley, south, where the lumber and all 
 had been delivered from Fort Leavenworth, far to the 
 northeast, by the big freighting firm of Russell, Majors 
 & Waddell. Everything had been cut to measure at the 
 mill. According to George, a house complete with 
 doors and windows could be shipped by boat and ox- 
 teams clear from St. Louis to central Kansas, and set 
 up in a day, like putting together a puzzle. But saw- 
 mills were being rapidly established in Kansas there 
 was one at Fort Riley and a new one at Manhattan; 
 
io 4 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 so that even here on the Kansas frontier lumber could 
 be procured. 
 
 " Hello, Terry/' greeted Mr. Stanton, coming from 
 a shed. " Ready for business? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, I've got some carpentering to do, and I'll 
 set you and George at plowing those bottom acres. 
 The ground's soft, there, and the two yoke can pull 
 through without trouble. But it will take the both of 
 you to hold the plow." 
 
 The plow was a much larger one then Terry's, with 
 a twenty-four-inch blade instead of a twelve-inch, and 
 iron mold-boards instead of wooden ones. The plow 
 blade (which is fastened to the mold boards) was of 
 cast iron tipped with steel. 
 
 Ned and Bonny were put in as the first, for the pole 
 yoke; and Buck and Spot were hooked in front of 
 them, as the lead yoke. George's father was a practical 
 farmer. In Indiana he had broken the land, about as 
 he was to break the land in Kansas. 
 
 The bottom-land, green and level, with grass to one's 
 knees, was ideal for corn, said Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " I've set up a stake yonder," he directed, pointing. 
 " That's your guide, for the first furrow, so you'll 
 plow reasonably straight. This is your corner, to start 
 from. Only one of you can do the driving, but it'll 
 need the two of you to hold the plow. Get your first 
 furrow straight, and lay the others by that. George 
 knows." 
 
 " All right," sung George. " Terry'll drive ; his yoke 
 are the lead. Come on, Terry." 
 
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE 105 
 
 Terry swung the two yoke into position, and he and 
 George turned the plow over for business. Away they 
 gallantly went, aiming for the stake ; and the thick sod 
 " popped " as the heavy blade ripped through. The 
 sod here was tougher than at the garden patch; every 
 now and then a mass of roots almost stopped the plow, 
 jerking the two boys forward and throwing them back 
 again. 
 
 " Hold hard," encouraged George. 
 
 "Hold hard/' repeated Terry. "Buck! Haw! 
 Haw, Buck! Spot!" 
 
 Steering the plow like a ship in a powerful sea they 
 were tugged along, leaving behind them a wide black 
 wake. By the time that they arrived at the stake, they 
 were dripping with sweat and the four oxen were 
 steaming. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " exclaimed Terry, ruefully, as they 
 paused, at the stake, and looked back. " That's no 
 shakes of a furrow. I thought we were aiming 
 straight; didn't you? " 
 
 " Crooked as a snake track, isn't it ! " admitted 
 George. " Now dad'll laugh. But it's no easy job to 
 hold this plow," and he wagged his head. " I've helped 
 plow in Indiana ; never had to wrestle like this, though." 
 
 " We'll keep going, anyway," quoth Terry. " Let's 
 turn 'round." 
 
 They turned the oxen and the plow, and started 
 again, determined to make this a straight furrow. But 
 midway Terry gave a sudden jump and yelp; and yelp- 
 ing likewise George jumped in the opposite direction. 
 The oxea stopped. As for the snake and a snake it 
 
io6 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 was untwisting where he had been thrown up by the 
 plow he made off at a furious pace, George after him. 
 George returned breathless. 
 
 " Couldn't catch him," he reported. " He's a blue 
 racer. Those blue racers can beat a horse." 
 
 " Thought he was a bull-snake," proffered Terry. 
 
 " No ; he was long and slim, and a bull-snake's thick 
 with a big head." 
 
 " We'd better watch out for rattlers," observed 
 Terry. " I'd hate to get one in my boot." 
 
 " I should say ! " agreed George. And he shouted, to 
 Virgie, who was trudging down to them, from the 
 cabin some of the time through grass and flowers up 
 to her yellow sunbonnet : " You stay there ! Go back ! 
 Too many snakes ! " 
 
 Virgie stopped, alarmed, and scuttled hastily for the 
 cabin yard again. 
 
 Snakes! Why, this green bottom-land seemed to 
 grow more snakes than anything else ! What a lot of 
 snakes Kansas appeared to have! Scarcely a furrow 
 that did not disturb one kind or another, of snake : the 
 blue racers, sheeny and beautiful, and as lithe and swift 
 as a whip-lash; thick bodied, brown bull-snakes, five 
 and six feet long, with blunt, large heads which hissed 
 harmlessly; striped garter snakes; and what George, 
 who was posted on snakes, claimed was a glass snake. 
 The merest touch broke it into pieces, and the pieces 
 wriggled away and hid. George asserted that the head 
 found the body, again, and stuck itself on; and then 
 the head and body found the tail, and stuck that on; 
 and the snake was a good as before ! 
 
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE 107 
 
 As for rattlers whew! In the bottom there were 
 occasional patches of jungle, where the grasses grew 
 four feet high, and the sun-flowers towered above the 
 backs of the oxen. These jungles were famous places 
 for snakes, and particularly for rattlers. The oxen 
 learned to stop and snort when they perceived a rattle- 
 snake; sometimes the snake rattled and sometimes it 
 didn't, but shot away, and escaped. When it coiled 
 and stood its ground, Terry or George, swinging from 
 a respectful distance, stunned it with the butt of the 
 whip-stock and then finished it. That was safe work, 
 for as everybody knew, a rattle-snake can strike only 
 about half its length, from its coil. 
 
 " We ought to turn hogs in here," spoke George. 
 " They'd clean out the snakes. " 
 
 " But they'd get bit and die," objected Terry. 
 
 " No, siree ! The hog lets the snake strike him on 
 the cheek, where there's nothing but hard gristle. Then 
 he steps all over the snake and cuts him up and eats 
 him." 
 
 The furrows were now as straight and true as any- 
 body could desire. The black swathes of upturned 
 earth lay like broad strips of carpeting unrolled 
 bunchily ; and from the damp soil rose an earthy smell 
 not at all unpleasant. Terry and George were coated 
 to their boot-tops with the sticky dirt ; the oxen were 
 heaving, but still stanch. 
 
 Every four or five furrows they all stopped, to 
 sharpen the nose of the plow with a coarse file. The 
 tough roots fought a continual battle against the tough 
 
io8 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 steel. It was amazing what a difference there was be- 
 tween a sharp plow and a dull plow. 
 
 They had halted beside a bunch of tall flowering 
 weeds and coarse grasses, and Terry was using the file 
 on the plow nose, when it slipped and flew out of his 
 hand into the weeds. 
 
 " Huh ! " complained Terry, and reached in after it. 
 This was a careless thing to do, but he was in a hurry. 
 Suddenly, as he reached, the sharp whirr of a rattler 
 sounded right under his no 
 
 " Look out ! " ordered George ; and surprised, Terry 
 gave a great leap backward. Even as he landed he 
 heard another short whirr some soft object squirmed 
 under his feet, and as he desperately sprang again, he 
 felt a hard thump on his bootleg, followed by a prick- 
 ing pain. 
 
 " I'm hit ! " he cried. " He struck me, George ! Oh, 
 jiminy! " 
 
 A weight seemed to be attached to his leg ; and gaz- 
 ing down behind as he took another hasty step he wit- 
 nessed a long squirming object following his movement 
 into the nearest furrow. He was dragging the snake 
 with him its fangs fast in his bootleg. The sight 
 made him weak. But George was to the rescue in a 
 jiffy, with the whip. 
 
 " He's caught ! Stand still just a second " for 
 Terry's impulse was to run, and run, and run, and kick 
 the snake off. But he held himself in. Down like 
 lightning came the whip stock, with all George's 
 strength it thudded home so stoutly that it not only 
 
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE 109 
 
 mashed flat the brown back behind the ugly head but 
 tore the fangs loose. And the snake lay quivering. 
 
 "Did he bite through?" demanded George, pant- 
 ing. "Sit down, quick ! Gimme your boot. Let's 
 see." 
 
 " Felt as though he did," quavered Terry, sinking 
 into the furrow and tugging weakly at his boot. But 
 George grabbed the boot from his hands, and hauled. 
 Off it came. He rolled up the trousers leg Terry try- 
 ing to help and stripped down the stocking. On the 
 white skin over the shin-bone between knee and instep 
 were two tiny red punctures ; a pair of them, about an 
 inch apart. 
 
 Terry gasped, frightened. George, however, was all 
 business. 
 
 " Don't believe any poison got through," he asserted. 
 "The skin's hardly broken. See? But I think we 
 ought to widen up that place so it'll bleed. That'll wash 
 it out. I'll do it now, quick." 
 
 He fished his knife from his trousers pocket, and 
 opened the small blade. 
 
 " Hold steady," he bade. " You don't mind a little 
 bit of pain, do you ? " 
 
 " No. Go ahead," directed Terry, recovering his 
 nerve. 
 
 George gave a brief series of swift, hard prods with 
 the knife point. Terry drew keen breath as he felt the 
 point dig and tear the flesh. The knife was not so very 
 sharp but not for the world would he have winced or 
 complained; and after all, it was soon over. George 
 squeezed the wound ; and before Terry could stop him 
 
no THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 he had put his mouth on it and sucked hard several 
 times and spat. 
 
 " Here ! " objected Terry. " What you doing ? " 
 
 " Sucking the poison out, if there was any. Don't 
 believe there was, though," retorted George. " He 
 had to bite through your boot and pants and stocking; 
 and then he hit right on the bone where you haven't got 
 much meat or blood. Poison does no harm if it doesn't 
 get into the circulation. I've seen lots of rattlers in 
 Indiana. We always cut and suck the wound, to wash 
 it out. People yonder stick a hunk of tobacco on it, 
 too ; but we haven't any tobacco. So we'll tie it up in 
 mud. How you feeling? " 
 
 " All right," bravely asserted Terry. " I don't be- 
 lieve I'm hurt much." 
 
 "Of course you aren't," assured George a very 
 comforting sort of a partner as now he industriously 
 gathered a handful of soft moist earth, clapped it on 
 the wound, and proceeded to tie his bandanna handker- 
 chief around, over the plaster. " We've played safe, 
 anyhow. We didn't even wait to go to the house. The 
 quicker you get after such things, the better. Want to 
 put on your boot? It'll be all right." 
 
 " Sure," agreed Terry. He carefully folded his 
 trouser leg and hauled his boot on, and scrambled up ; 
 stood a moment a little unsteadily, with George watch- 
 ing him ; wriggled his wounded leg, and laughed. Then 
 he sobered. 
 
 " Shake, George," he invited, extending his hand. 
 " Maybe you saved my life. I guess we're brothers 
 
 now." 
 
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SNAKE in 
 
 " Aw ! " bluffed George, flushing, but shaking 
 hands. " I didn't save anybody's life. You weren't 
 struck bad. You'd have been all right. Most of the 
 poison stayed on the outside of your boot see the 
 wet spot? But I'll be glad to be your brother." 
 
 " I was mighty scared, for a few minutes ; 'specially 
 when I saw what I was dragging 'round," confessed 
 Terry. " I suppose I'd have been running yet, till I fell 
 over." 
 
 " That's about the worst thing a fellow can do," 
 accused George. " He ought to keep cool and keep his 
 blood cool. But I wouldn't have blamed you. To drag 
 a thing like that, by your boot, is no joke. Cracky, 
 he's a big one, isn't he ! " 
 
 They scanned the dead snake as large a rattler as 
 that killed by Terry in the cabin. He had the same 
 number of rattles, too: thirteen and a button. Terry 
 fished out his own knife, and boldly hacked the rattles 
 off. 
 
 " Here," he said, holding them out to George. " You 
 keep these, and I'll keep the set from my snake, at the 
 cabin. We'll carry 'em in our pockets. And whenever 
 we want help from each other, or something like that, 
 we'll signal." 
 
 " Good ! " exclaimed George. " Or we can hang 'em 
 round our necks, and wear 'em in swimming and to bed 
 and every place ! Shake again, on the Brotherhood of 
 the Rattlesnake. Allee same Injun huh ? " 
 
 They gripped brown strong hands, and shook. 
 
 " Now I'd better look for that file," proposed Terry. 
 He picked up the whip and limping a little as he walked, 
 
H2 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 rather gingerly poked into the weed patch where he had 
 flipped the file. 
 
 " Watch out, now ! " warned George. " That may 
 be this snake's wife or husband in there." 
 
 But whichever the first snake might have been, it 
 had made off during the fracas ; and reaching in, Terry 
 drew the file to him and picked it up. 
 
 " How you feeling now ? " queried George. 
 
 " All right," insisted Terry. And when they re- 
 sumed their plowing he continued to feel all right, save 
 for the slight smarting where George had prodded with 
 the knife. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 
 
 TWELVE acres were ploughed for corn at the Stanton 
 ranch; and then, aided by George, Terry ploughed 
 twelve acres at his own and his mother's ranch. The 
 corn was planted and this was a tedious job, done by 
 hand. One of them, either George or Terry, walked 
 ahead, down each furrow, a sack of corn slung from 
 his shoulder. Every two short steps, about, he dropped 
 four kernels of corn; and following close with a hoe 
 his partner covered the kernels. 
 
 This took time, but anyway, at last the corn was in. 
 
 Meanwhile, other work pressed. It seemed to Terry 
 that everything needed him, at once. How rapidly the 
 seeds that he put in did grow ! The garden stuff fairly 
 leaped out of the ground, and so did the weeds! Al- 
 ready his fingers had worn the hoe-handle smooth, 
 where he gripped it, and there were callouses, he de- 
 clared, an inch thick, on his palms. Within a week 
 after the planting, the corn field showed long lines of 
 light green, from the sprouting kernels; and Mr. 
 Stanton told him that he soon must plough again and 
 cross plough, to keep the weeds down and the soil 
 stirred up. His mother also was busy. They both rose 
 at dawn, had breakfast by half -past five, and were on 
 
114 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 the go until dark. And even after dark his mother 
 stitched and mended by the light of a candle. 
 
 The spring-house was yet to be built, and the dug-out 
 cellar improved, and fences to be erected, and another 
 supply of wood to be hauled, and the colt was getting 
 wild and ought to be broken, and the chickens were 
 wandering wide and laying eggs that never were found, 
 and supplies were getting low, demanding a trip to 
 town, and, oh, dear ! The ranch was a problem. Not 
 a word or sign had come from Mr. Richards, who was 
 so sorely missed. 
 
 But the ranch certainly had improved, and these 
 busy days were not unpleasant days. There was the 
 corn-field, and there was the garden patch. The 
 prairie grasses of the hay field were high and nodding, 
 and waved in green billows as the daily wind swept 
 across. Mr. Stanton estimated that at least 200 tons 
 of hay were in sight and Terry wondered how he was 
 going to cut it and what he was going to do with it. 
 The hens were laying well they supplied far more 
 eggs than could be eaten by two people; and besides, 
 they were begining to rear broods. The big turkey 
 had fully recovered from his wounds, except that he 
 could not use his wing, and that he had a curious twist 
 to his neck. He showed no inclination to return to the 
 timber; on the contrary, he had become very tame 
 and likewise the boss of the yard. He occasionally 
 entered the cabin, seeking tidbits ; and outside he drove 
 the rooster about as he pleased, and held the upper hand 
 of even Shep. Terry named him Pete, and had taught 
 him to come running at a peculiar little whistle. 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 
 
 Every morning the sun rose round and red, in a 
 crimson east; shone all day, save when now and then 
 a thunder-storm rolled up out of the north or west; 
 and every evening he sank gorgeously, leaving a long, 
 peaceful twilight or afterglow of pink and gold. The 
 hayfield, and the creek banks, and even the timber, were 
 brilliant with wild-flowers pink and white and blue 
 and yellow and red : thousands of them, in masses and 
 ribbons, with the great sun-flowers towering highest, 
 eight and ten feet tall. The very cabin roof was a 
 flower-garden, in the midst of which a bunch of sun- 
 flowers stood waving and bending, like a signal. When 
 he returned homeward from work, Terry was always 
 glad to see those sunflowers nodding at him, and his 
 mother usually standing in the doorway under them, 
 watching for him. 
 
 " Terry, boy," she said, suddenly, one night, " I 
 think you'll have to go down to Manhattan or Fort 
 Riley and get us some things we need." 
 
 "What, ma?" 
 
 " We're about out of flour, and bacon, and sugar, 
 and soap, and potatoes, and, oh, lots of things. If your 
 father could have been here, he might have managed 
 different. I'm sure our timber is worth selling. He 
 counted on selling wood and rails to the fort. But 
 we'll have to take what money you've earned and what 
 more we can spare, to spell us along till our garden's 
 bearing and our hay and corn are ready. I wish we 
 had a cow ; then I could make butter." 
 
 "The Stantons give us milk, anyway," reminded 
 Terry. 
 
Ii6 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 For the Stantons had a cow, and every other day 
 Terry rode over for a bucket of milk. 
 
 " Yes, I know." And his mother sighed. " Maybe 
 some day we can have a cow, too. Mrs. Stanton says 
 the people at Manhattan and the fort pay good prices 
 for butter ; and you can always trade butter and cheese 
 at the stores. Well, I think that to-morrow you'd bet- 
 ter take what money we have to spend, and go into 
 town. You can start early, and get back the next day, 
 can't you? " 
 
 " You won't be afraid to stay alone ? " queried Terry, 
 anxiously. 
 
 His mother laughed. 
 
 " Of course not. Not with Shep and Pete." 
 
 " I'll leave you the gun, too," proffered Terry. " It's 
 loaded." 
 
 " Don't you worry about me," smiled his mother. 
 " Who'll try to harm us, in this big country? But you 
 must hurry back, because I'll miss you." 
 
 Except for leaving his mother alone, willing indeed 
 was Terry to go. It meant a sort of a vacation to him. 
 He planned to start at sunrise and to do this he rose 
 extra early, so as to get the chores done. After a hasty 
 breakfast of flapjacks (or griddle-cakes) and molasses, 
 he mounted the mare, and with a good-by wave to his 
 mother rode off. Shep, watching him, whined; and 
 the colt, penned in the corral, whinnied shrilly; but 
 they and Pete the turkey were to form the home guard 
 to protect his mother. 
 
 He had in his pocket the ten dollars that he had 
 earned by working for Mr. Stanton, and nine dollars 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 117 
 
 and a half that his mother had spared from the scanty 
 household fund. And he carried three dozen eggs to 
 be traded in. His mother had supplied him with a list 
 of things to be bought all of which were somehow to 
 be packed on the mare and carried home. 
 
 It was five hours by saddle to either Manhattan town 
 or the new government post of Fort Riley; but that 
 was not much of a ride for a boy, and Terry loped 
 blithely down the broad valley, dewy with the morning 
 and sparkling in the beams of the newly risen sun. He 
 saw smoke wafting from the chimney of the Stanton 
 cabin, in the distance, as he passed by, climbing a little 
 swell. However, he had no time to stop and tell George 
 where he was going. Presently he had left the Stanton 
 ranch behind. 
 
 The Blue River was on his left, marked by its line 
 of timber. Manhattan was almost due south, with Fort 
 Riley about eighteen miles west from it, up the Kansas 
 River. He and his mother had decided that he would 
 go to Riley first, and ask whether the government 
 wouldn't buy the hay for as anybody might know, the 
 cavalry horses would require a lot of hay during the 
 winter. Perhaps he could arrange to sell the govern- 
 ment some potatoes and other garden stuff. 
 
 Then from Fort Riley he could return by way of 
 Manhattan (where he would buy the stuff that his 
 mother wanted), and up the Valley of the Blue. 
 
 It was fun to be riding off, full of business, like 
 any man. At trot and lope he proceeded, with the 
 prairie birds rising and fluttering around him, many 
 flowers brushing his stirrups, the sun warm on his 
 
n8 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 back, and the breeze of plain and prairie blowing strong 
 and sweet. At the same time, he had to be careful of 
 his eggs. 
 
 By the sun he headed west of south, to cross the high 
 rolling ridge which divided the Valley of the Blue from 
 the Valley of the Republican, at the mouth of which lay 
 Fort Riley. Broad stretched the Valley of the Blue, 
 as he skirted it : a great expanse of rolling prairie, with 
 quite a number of cabins scattered upon it for the 
 further south one went, toward the Kansas River and 
 the emigrant trail along it, the more settlers there were. 
 Antelope were grazing. Jiminy, but they could run! 
 Yonder might be a bunch of buffalo or perhaps they 
 were cattle. And look at the deer two, three, six, 
 scampering off through the brush ! 
 
 But Terry was business bent, and had no time to fool 
 with small fry such as buffalo and deer much less the 
 countless long-eared, long-legged jack-rabbits that 
 jumped from under the old mare's very hoofs. He 
 could see a low line of mist, like a fog, far before, and 
 rather guessed that this was the Kansas River. Finally 
 he struck a wagon trail wending in the direction of 
 Fort Riley, and gladly turned upon this. 
 
 It forded a creek, and amidst sumac and black walnut 
 trees, wild plums and cherries ascended the opposite 
 bank. On the mare Terry was emerging from the 
 timber and rounding the shoulder of a grassy rise, when 
 in a moment he was face to face with Thunder Horse, 
 the small-pox marked Kiowa, a filthy blanket draped 
 over his shoulders. 
 
 It was a meeting unexpected by Terry, but evi- 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 119 
 
 dently not unexpected by Thunder Horse. The Kiowa 
 probably had been loafing at the side of the trail, for he 
 appeared to have just mounted and was sitting his 
 horse, waiting. He instantly reined his horse across 
 the trail, and reaching to grasp the mare's bridle, 
 grunted : 
 
 "How?" 
 
 His eyes were blood-shot, his breath was laden with 
 the foul odor of liquor, and altogether he was a very 
 unpleasing customer. But Terry did not propose to be 
 caught and held. Even as the Kiowa's grimy fingers 
 touched the cheek strap of the bridle, Terry jerked the 
 mare's head sharply aside, and reined her back. 
 
 " Here ! What are you trying to do ? " he demanded. 
 "Get out!" 
 
 Thunder Horse, his hand out-stretched, a crafty grin 
 on his ugly face, pushed his pony forward, still intent 
 on the mare's bridle. 
 
 "Huh! No pass. Give whisk'." 
 
 " Get out ! " ordered Terry. " I haven't any whiskey 
 and I wouldn't give it to you if I had." 
 
 "Shoog," invited Thunder Horse. "No whisk*. 
 Give shoog." 
 
 " Haven't any sugar, either," retorted Terry, back- 
 ing, while the mare snorted. She did not like such an 
 Indian, any more than did Terry. " Get out with you ! 
 Puck-a-chee ! " 
 
 The Kiowa's face stiffened, and his reddened eyes 
 narrowed. 
 
 " No pass," he repeated. " Give whisk' shoog 
 tobac. Then boy go." 
 
120 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " I tell you I haven't any," insisted Terry, backing 
 as fast as Thunder Horse advanced. 
 
 They were almost at the timber's edge, again, and 
 he could not back much further without getting into a 
 pocket. The mare was growing restive ; but something 
 in the Kiowa's watchful attitude let Terry know that 
 his enemy was ready to head off a dash around to the 
 left where the land was level. 
 
 " What got in bag? " asked Thunder Horse, edging 
 on. He indicated the canvas sack in which the eggs 
 were packed in grass. " Give." 
 
 " I'll show you what I've got in that bag," announced 
 Terry, outwardly bold but inwardly alarmed. 
 
 He really did not know exactly what he was going 
 to do, when he thrust in one hand while endeavoring 
 to control his mare with the other. Thunder Horse 
 was observing closely. One came Terry's hand and 
 with sudden hot resolution he let fly. He did it so 
 quickly that he surprised even himself, but he surprised 
 Thunder Horse more. The egg (it was a large one) 
 landed better than if Terry had paused to take aim. 
 First he saw the Kiowa's ugly, greasy, pitted face leer- 
 ing at him ; next he saw it all streaming with the yellow 
 yolk, for the egg had burst squarely on the low fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Wagh ! " ejaculated Thunder Horse, clawing at his 
 eyes, while his pony reared. 
 
 Terry seized the lucky chance. With a whoop he 
 hammered his heels against the old mare's sides, and 
 dashed past, in flight. Thunder Horse grabbed vainly 
 at him, and wheeled in pursuit. Great Caesar's ghost ! 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 121 
 
 He was coming! Glancing back Terry saw him, his 
 blanket dropped about his thighs, his face all smeared, 
 his moccasined heels hammering his pony, pelting in 
 pursuit. It was funny his egged-up face made him 
 look like a clown but it was serious, too, for he seemed 
 to be infuriated. 
 
 The fat old mare was no match for the wiry pony, 
 in a race. 
 
 " Crickity ! " sighed Terry, dubious over the result 
 of his adventure. 
 
 The Kiowa was gaining rapidly. Terry extracted 
 another .egg, and turned in the saddle. At the motion 
 Thunder Horse abruptly ducked. He had no liking 
 for eggs served this way. Terry threw and missed ; 
 but he quickly extracted a third egg and threw again, 
 and hit the pony between the eyes. At the smash of 
 the egg the pony tossed his head and swerved, almost 
 unseating Thunder Horse, and Terry, an egg again in 
 his hand, gained. 
 
 However, the Kiowa kept coming. Whenever Ee 
 drew near, Terry threw at him; some of the eggs 
 missed, but others struck to smash on the Kiowa' s 
 broad chest, and arms, and once right on his ear, and 
 also on the pony's breast and nose. Twice Thunder 
 Horse arrived right along side reached for the bridle 
 rein and missed it only because an egg found lucky 
 mark on his scowling face, making him dodge as Terry 
 veered away. 
 
 This could not last forever, though; the eggs 
 wouldn't, anyway. Now Terry had been chased off 
 the trail and into the trackless prairie, and was 
 
122 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 thoroughly frightened. The Kiowa was bound to 
 catch him, eggs or no eggs; and then, what? But at 
 this crisis with Terry turning and twisting like a 
 rabbit, and the Kiowa ducking and reaching like a 
 hawk, and the fat mare blowing and the daubed pony 
 apparently as relentless as its worse daubed master a 
 shrill cry rang high, through the breezy air. Across 
 the prairie, from the direction of the trail a squad of 
 horsemen were spurring to the fracas: soldiers 
 cavalrymen ! 
 
 The Kiowa must have heard and seen, for with one 
 final grunt and useless grab at the mare's bridle he 
 wheeled about and bending low tore off at top speed. 
 Terry steadied himself threw his last egg, which he 
 had been saving for an especially telling crack. It 
 struck Thunder Horse right in the middle of the bare 
 back, spattering him from shoulder to shoulder. 
 
 " You'd better get! " yelled Terry, after him. 
 
 The cavalry squad had spread out, as if to head off 
 Thunder Horse; but he was fleeing in the opposite 
 direction, and they did not have the slightest chance to 
 catch him, and did not even shoot at him. With clatter 
 of saber and carbine, and jingle of bridle, they drew 
 in on Terry. 
 
 The first to arrive was a red-faced sergeant ; he was 
 grinning broadly and grinning were all the men clos- 
 ing in behind and right and left. 
 
 "Faith!" grinned the sergeant. "An' eggs must 
 be cheap where you come from, me lad. Niver did I 
 see an Injun before in that kind av war-paint. How 
 many did ye throw at him ? " 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 123 
 
 " Three dozen," answered Terry, ruefully. 
 
 "Fresh wans?" 
 
 "Yes, sir but I wish they hadn't been," asserted 
 Terry. 
 
 " Haw, haw ! " roared the sergeant. " 'Tis an 
 omelette ye made av him." And roared the tickled 
 men. " An' what Injun was he? " asked the sergeant. 
 " A Kiowa, I'm thinkin', by the cut av his hair." 
 
 " Yes, sir. He was Thunder Horse, a Kiowa ; and 
 he was drunk." 
 
 " That old rascal ? The likes av him attackin' a 
 slip av a lad carryin' eggs to market ! An' where might 
 ye be a-goin', boy? " 
 
 " To Fort Riley. I thought maybe I could sell them 
 our hay. It isn't ready yet, but it's growing on our 
 ranch. And we'll have corn, too; and potatoes" 
 answered Terry. 
 
 " An' where might the ranch be, then ? " queried the 
 sergeant. 
 
 " It's the last ranch up the Valley of the Blue," in- 
 formed Terry. " We moved onto it only a month ago, 
 but it's booming." 
 
 " An' be ye rumrin' it? " asked the sergeant, his eyes 
 twinkling. 
 
 He was a first sergeant, Terry knew, because he wore 
 yellow chevrons with a lozenge in the angle of the three 
 bars. He must be a veteran in the service, too ; for his 
 freckled face was parched to a deep maroon by the 
 plains breezes, and his short bristly moustache was 
 faded to a carroty yellow. He was a stocky, square- 
 sitting little man and one might have thought him 
 fierce-looking were it not for his twinkling blue eyes. 
 
124 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " My mother and I are running it till my father 
 comes back to help. We lost him, crossing a creek, but 
 we've got his hat that was found on shore, so we know 
 he's somewhere," declared Terry. 
 
 " Runnin' a ranch the two av 'em ! " gasped the 
 sergeant. " A woman an' a boy the size av him ! But 
 he's wonderful with eggs he's sheer wonderful. 
 Hivin help that Thunder Horse he'll after be bathin' 
 for the first time in all his dirty life ! " The grizzled 
 red-faced sergeant scratched his stubbly chin and sur- 
 veyed Terry. " An' what's the name av you, me lad ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 " Terry Richards." 
 
 " All right, Terry. I knew ye must be Irish. I'm 
 Pathrick Murphy, top sergeant av the First United 
 States Dragoons that they do be after callin' the 
 cavalry. So come along, Terry me boy. We'll take ye 
 over to Left'nant Arnold, yon; an' he'll take ye down 
 to the fort, an' there ye' 11 see Captain Steuart, who be 
 the quartermaster, an' the cap'n '11 engage the hay an' 
 corn an' potatoes, but ye aren't out much loss on the 
 eggs, for they be only tin cints the dozen, when I left; 
 an' goin' beggin', at that. Now ride beside me, an* 
 we'll talk it over." 
 
 The sergeant barked an order, the squad formed in 
 file of twos, and at a trot they all rode for the trail 
 Terry beside Sergeant Murphy, at the head of the little 
 column of dusty blue. 
 
 By the time that they reached the main cavalry de- 
 tachment, waiting around the shoulder of the rise, the 
 good-humored sergeant knew most of Terry's history. 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 125 
 
 " Belike, now/' he sympathized, " your father was 
 struck on the head an' his sinses knocked out av him so 
 he forgot himself entirely, when he came to. But 
 there'll be a day when he wakes, the same as out of a 
 drame, an' yez do well to stay right where yez be, so 
 he'll know where to find yez." 
 
 The half company of cavalry, about thirty men, was 
 waiting, under command of a slim young lieutenant. 
 The sergeant rode forward with Terry, to report. 
 
 " Yon's Left'nant Arnold," he whispered, hoarsely, 
 to Terry. " An' a good officer an' gintleman, barrin' 
 he's a bit new to the service as yit. I'll turn ye over to 
 him." 
 
 He saluted the lieutenant, who with a quizzical smile 
 surveyed Terry keenly. 
 
 " I've fetched you the boy, left'nant," said the 
 sergeant. " But the Injun got away an' sure, he was 
 well plastered with eggs. The lad'll tell you all about 
 it, sorr." 
 
 " Very well, sergeant," crisply responded the lieu- 
 tenant. " Ride with me, my boy. Com'ny 'ten-shun! 
 For'd march! Trot!" 
 
 And away they went, down the wagon trail. 
 
 The lieutenant who seemed to Terry not much 
 older than himself proved a very good listener, and 
 was highly amused at the story of the egg throwing. 
 He even slapped his thigh, and chuckled, and declared 
 that eggs were cheaper than cartridges, and that he'd 
 make a report to the War Department, on the new kind 
 of ammunition. By the time that they came in sight of 
 the fort, he was as well acquainted with Terry's history 
 as was the Sergeant Murphy. 
 
126 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Fort Riley was located where the Republican River 
 emptied into the Kansas River, west of the Blue River. 
 It was not yet completed, but several stone buildings 
 were already up, and others being built, grouped around 
 a large parade ground, from the middle of which 
 floated, on a tall pole, the Stars and Stripes. A well 
 traveled and very dusty wagon-road led into it, along 
 the Kansas used by the emigrants and freighters from 
 Kansas City, east, and the big Government freight 
 outfits which entered it by a branch trail from Fort 
 Leavenworth, northeast. 
 
 Stone-cutters were chipping, a saw-mill was in full 
 blast, great freight-wagons were parked, ox-teams, of 
 six and eight yoke, were standing, or pulling their can- 
 vas-covered wagons hither and thither, settlers and 
 soldiers were strolling around; and altogether Fort 
 Riley was a busy place. 
 
 The mess call for dinner was being sounded by a 
 trumpeter, from the flag-pole base, when the cavalry 
 detachment rode in. Terry, who was hungry, after put- 
 ting his mare in along with the cavalry horses dined 
 with the sergeant and the sergeant's red-armed Irish 
 wife, in a little shanty where Mrs. Murphy evidently 
 took in washing. But after dinner the sergeant con- 
 ducted him to Lieutenant Arnold, and the lieutenant 
 himself took him to see Captain Steuart the quarter- 
 master. 
 
 As they crossed the parade ground, on their way to 
 the quartermaster's office, Terry found himself re- 
 garded with smiling curiosity. Plainly enough, the 
 story of the egg throwing had been widely circulated. 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 127 
 
 He felt somewhat like a hero, did Terry, albeit a little 
 embarrassed. Anyhow, he had done the best he could, 
 in emergency and had it not been for the eggs, 
 Thunder Horse surely would have got him. 
 
 Captain Steuart, also, smiled wisely on receiving 
 him. He was a stalwart, broad-shouldered, weather- 
 bronzed man with dark eyes and a black goatee. At the 
 lieutenant's salute and presentation, the captain rose 
 promptly and in elaborate manner shook hands. 
 
 " Proud to meet you, Mr. Richards," he asserted. 
 " I understand you are the champion marksman with 
 field artillery, and your shells never fail to explode, on 
 impact." 
 
 "If you only might have seen that Indian, through 
 the glasses, as I saw him," chuckled the lieutenant. 
 " Henceforth his name is Big Omelette." 
 
 " How much hay have you in sight, my boy ? " 
 queried the captain, coming down to business. 
 
 " About two hundred tons, sir," answered Terry. 
 
 " Good ! " approved the captain. " You can consider 
 it engaged by the government all or any part of it. 
 Suppose you'll want to reserve some of it for your 
 own stock. Very well. We'll say one hundred and 
 fifty tons, delivered here, at the market price. If you 
 can't deliver it, let me know. I'll make out the proper 
 contract. Corn? Got corn? Potatoes?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Twelve acres of corn, and I don't know 
 how much potatoes." 
 
 " All right. We'll say sixty bushels of corn to the 
 acre ; that makes seven hundred bushels. You'll doubt- 
 less want half yourself. We'll take the rest. Fetch 
 
128 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 along your potatoes, too. Any boy who can look out 
 for himself the way you did deserves patronage. We 
 need just that kind of settler out here. Now, if I can 
 help you further to make that ranch a success, let me 
 know. Got any timber ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir," stammered Terry. " A lot of it, 
 down by the creek." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Black walnut, and cottonwood, and plums and hick- 
 ory and oak, and some I don't know yet," informed 
 Terry. 
 
 " Well, when you get ready to cut that timber, you 
 figure it up," pursued Captain Steuart. " Maybe you 
 can drive a bargain with us. We need lumber and fuel, 
 same as anybody." 
 
 It all been so absurdly easy, that Terry went out 
 quite dazed with his unexpected large contracts. Those 
 eggs had not been wasted. Why, Captain Steuart had 
 treated him as a man! 
 
 He was wild to get home and tell his mother; and 
 decided to go right down to Manhatten, and make his 
 purchases, and leave for the ranch early in the morning. 
 If it wasn't for resting the mare, he might have planned 
 to start on up that evening but of course he ought not 
 to try. 
 
 He said good-by to young Lieutenant Arnold, and 
 was cinching the saddle on the mare in the stables, 
 when Sergeant Murphy clanked in. 
 
 " An' are ye off ? " queried the sergeant. 
 
 "Yes, sir; to Manhattan," busily answered Terry. 
 
 " Sure, then, I'll be glad av the comp'ny," responded 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 129 
 
 the sergeant. " J Tis where I'm after goin', meself ." 
 
 Glad was Terry, likewise ; and together they ambled 
 out, and soon struck the dusty road leading down 
 the course of the Kansas, for the town of Manhattan, 
 some eighteen miles. The sergeant thought they ought 
 to arrive in two hours and a half. 
 
 It was an interesting road, traveled constantly by 
 emigrant outfits of wagons all kinds heavily laden 
 with household goods, and drawn by horses and 
 oxen and even cows, pushing on for new homes in the 
 Valley of the Republican, above the fort; by freight 
 trains of huge, covered wagons and long " bull " teams, 
 accompanied by booted, red-shirted, whiskered " bull 
 whackers," hauling settler and government supplies; 
 and by numerous traders and hunters and adventurers, 
 horseback or muleback ; and by cavalvades of Indians, 
 mainly Pottawattamies from the reservation down the 
 river. 
 
 " Iverybody goin' west an' always west," remarked 
 the sergeant. " Tis wonderful fair wonderful. An* 
 where'll they stop?" 
 
 " Does this road lead clear across the Rocky Moun- 
 tains? " asked Terry. 
 
 " No, sorr. This is part of the government cut-off 
 from Fort Leavenworth to join the trail to Santy Fee 
 down southwards. There be no road across the Rocky 
 Mountains, save the Oregon Trail an* the Calif orny 
 Trail, up the Platte River, to the north. But I hear 
 tell there be a party formin' now, at Manhattan, to go 
 on west to the mountains, sakin' for gold. I don't 
 envy 'em. I was out there wance twinty an' more 
 
130 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 years ago, in Thirtyfive, with Colonel Henry Dodge an* 
 the First Dragoons. We went out by the Oregon 
 Trail, an* followed the mountains south, to the Ar- 
 kansas River an' the Santy Fee Trail; an' it be no- 
 man's country jist desert an' rocks an' Injuns, with 
 now an' then a creek for drinkin' an' a bit av grass for 
 the horses." 
 
 " Did you see any gold? " asked Terry 
 
 " Niver a glimmer. Yes, an' I've been within sight 
 of 'em many a time since, at Fort Laramie, an' at Bent's 
 trading post av the south, an' I've talked with men 
 who've been into 'em, an' there's mainly snow an* cold 
 an' wild beasts; but niver yit have I seen a grain av 
 gold from the Rocky Mountains. Gold comes from 
 Californy." 
 
 They had ridden about half way to Manhattan, 
 when they met a greater company of ox teams than any 
 encountered before. There were seven wagons, drawn 
 some by one yoke, some by two, the drivers trudging 
 alongside the fore wheels, several men on horseback, 
 and all proceeding under a cloud of dust. The riders 
 were well armed, other guns could be seen sticking out 
 from the wagons, and wedged against the outside of 
 the wagon boxes were a number of picks and long- 
 handled spades. 
 
 It did not look like an emigrant outfit, because there 
 were no women and children ; neither did the travelers 
 look like hunters or traders. But evidently they were 
 bound far. 
 
 The sergeant led around the straining, toiling, creak- 
 ing column. As Terry followed, one of the horsemen 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 131 
 
 turned out slightly, almost in front of him, and dis- 
 mounted to tighten his saddle cinch. Terry briefly 
 halted, also, to watch a moment and ask some questions 
 that were burning on his tongue : that is, ask them if 
 he was given the chance. 
 
 The man briefly glanced at him, and continued to 
 jerk at the strap under the horse's belly. 
 
 " Howdy ? " ventured Terry. " Are you all going to 
 California? " 
 
 " We're going to the mountains," answered the man, 
 still busy. 
 
 He seemed to be a gentlemanly man in fact, very 
 pleasant, although he did not again glance up. He was 
 clean shaven, with blue eyes, and hair cut close, and 
 looked rather pale, as if he might have been ill, lately. 
 
 Something in his voice and the side of his face struck 
 Terry as familiar but he could not for the life of him 
 remember where he had ever met this man before. 
 
 " To the Rocky Mountains, you mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, young man ; to the Rocky Mountains, for 
 gold." 
 
 Terry was more and more puzzled. He certainly 
 knew this man or at least he had known some man 
 similar to him. But where? And when? However, 
 no time was granted to renew the acquaintance further, 
 for the man had finished tightening the girth, and 
 climbed into the saddle again. 
 
 " Good day to you, my boy," he bade, in a slow, even 
 tone. And politely raising his hat in a salute trotted 
 on. 
 
 Terry noted that in his close cropped hair was a long 
 
132 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 bald spot ; and that his full face, as he passed, was more 
 f amilar than his profile. And the voice ! It had such 
 a haunting tone to it. 
 
 Racking his brain, Terry also rode on, to overtake 
 the sergeant. As he drew up alongside, suddenly an 
 idea possessed him, and he stopped. Sergeant Murphy 
 stopped. 
 
 " What's the matter now ? " queried the sergeant. 
 
 " Did you see that man I was talking to ? " demanded 
 Terry, excitedly. 
 
 " I saw ye watchin' wan av them gold-seekers," ad- 
 mitted the sergeant. 
 
 " He was my father ! " exclaimed Terry. " Any- 
 way, I think he was my father. But he didn't look like 
 him he only sort of felt like him." 
 
 Sergeant Murphy wheeled his horse about and stared 
 after the wagons. 
 
 " You don't say! An' did ye ask him? " 
 
 " No," replied Terry. " He didn't seem to know 
 me, and he's so different I wasn't sure I knew him. 
 He passed right on. You see, he didn't have any whis- 
 kers, and he was too thin, and his hair was too 
 short " 
 
 " He looked like a new-comer, to me," said the ser- 
 geant. " I marked him for that r'ason. Faith, an* 
 what's to be done, if ye aren't sure, an* he doesn't know 
 you. Could ye idintify him by any special mark ex- 
 cept gin'ral resemblance ? " 
 
 " N no," confessed Terry. " It's just just well, 
 if I'd heard him and hadn't seen him but I'm only 
 pretty sure and can't prove anything." 
 
TWO AMAZING ENCOUNTERS 133 
 
 "Well," declared the sergeant, rubbing his chin. 
 " I dunno. He didn't know you, and ye can't make 
 certain ye know him. There often be resemblances. 
 There they go, anyhow " for the horseman had 
 galloped on ahead of the column, and were disappear- 
 ing, "an* what's to be done? We might inquire at 
 Manhattan, for the name av him, an* where he's from. 
 Ye aren't sure ? " 
 
 Terry shook his head. 
 
 " He's awfully different. Maybe he isn't maybe 
 I only met up with him somewhere, once. My mother'd 
 know, though." 
 
 " Well," resumed the sergeant, " it's a pity she isn't 
 here, then. That's the gold-huntin' party I was tellin' 
 you about, you've been makin' ready at Manhattan to 
 start for the Rocky Mountains. Green Russell's the 
 captain av them, an' the most are from Georgy. He 
 claims he saw gold at the foot av the Rockies, in Forty- 
 nine, on his way to Calif orny; an* yon he goes, to find 
 the gold again. It's a cruel trail he's bent on takin* 
 six hundred an' more miles across the desert. But we'll 
 inquire about, at Manhattan, for the man who might 
 be your father an' then mightn't." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 
 
 THEY arrived at the town of Manhattan before sun- 
 set. The first thing they did was to inquire around, 
 as the sergeant had promised, about the make-up of 
 the Green Russell party of gold seekers. 
 
 Yes, the party had been formed here. Green Rus- 
 sell was from Leavenworth ; he had brought with him 
 to Manhattan a dozen other men, mainly of Georgia, 
 and had been joined by half a dozen more. They 
 expected to meet thirty or forty Cherokee Indians and 
 Missourians, on the way to the mountains, and all were 
 going to look for gold. Green Russell's wife was a 
 Cherokee woman ; that was why so many of the Chero- 
 kees had enlisted. 
 
 The thin- faced, smooth-shaven man was a stranger 
 by the name of Jones. He had said he was from Kan- 
 sas City and had been sick. He had not mentioned 
 any family ; but he had proved to be handy with tools, 
 and had bought a horse and gun and had gone with the 
 gold seekers. From Fort Riley the party were to strike 
 out into the desert, and make their own trail down 
 to the Santa Fe Trail, and travel on out to the moun- 
 tains that way. 
 
 " If he said his name was Jones, mebbe Jones it be," 
 134 
 
TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 135 
 
 reasoned the sergeant, to the puzzled Terry. " Or 
 mebbe he thinks it is Jones, an' it be Richards. I dunno. 
 You think you know him an' again you think 
 you know some other man resemblin' him. Sure, 
 at any rate, if he's your father, he's alive an' well, 
 barrin' forgettin' himself; an' like as not he'll dig a 
 fortune yonder an' come back to yez an' yez'll all be 
 happy wance more together. Ye'll do better, I'm think- 
 in', to go home to your mother who needs you, rather'n 
 be settin' off on a wild-goose chase after a man who 
 doesn't need you an' might not feel plazed to be called 
 ' father ' by a lad he doesn't know. 
 
 Terry took the advice. It would have been great to 
 bring his father home with him! What a time they 
 all would have had ! But, shucks, Mr. Jones might not 
 agree to come ; he might decline to be adopted, and he 
 might not be the right man, after all. So Terry gave 
 up his notion of setting out after the gold-seeker com- 
 pany, and decided that he ought to return to his mother 
 as quick as he could. She was alone, and Thunder 
 Horse might be making her trouble, and the ranch de- 
 manded attention, and he was full of news for her; and 
 he ought to complete his errands and hurry back. 
 
 Manhattan was a bustling little town of about 150 
 inhabitants, nicely located near where the Big Blue 
 River emptied into the Arkansas River. There were a 
 saw-mill, and a couple of stores, and many settlers 
 and freighters and reservation Indians Pottawat- 
 tamies, Osages, Kansas, Shawnees, and others, begging 
 and visiting and a few of the soldiers from Fort 
 Riley. 
 
136 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Terry hustled to make his purchases, before dark, and 
 to be ready to start for the ranch early in the morning. 
 The sergeant had business of his own; and Terry was 
 tugging at his sack of flour, to drag it to the pile he was 
 building in the stable where the old mare was stalled, 
 when a young man offered to help him. 
 
 " Better give me an end of that sack, and we'll tote 
 it together," spoke the young man. 
 
 He was a slightly framed, bright faced young man, 
 with laughing brown eyes and a long chin, and a clear, 
 tanned complexion. He wore " store " clothes of dusty 
 blue worsted, a gray flannel shirt and red tie, on his 
 feet coarse heavy shoes and on his shapely head a flap- 
 ping brimmed black slouch hat. 
 
 " All right I'll be mighty glad of a lift," accepted 
 Terry for nobody in all the crowd seemed to have the 
 time to help a boy. 
 
 " Where to ? " asked the young man, taking an end 
 of the sack. 
 
 " Down to the Happy Home stables, where my horse 
 is," answered Terry. " I'm putting things there, to 
 have 'em ready in the morning." 
 
 " You must be head of a family, by the way you're 
 working," laughed the young man, panting as they 
 lugged the sack and Terry noted that he moved with 
 a limp. " Now, where you from and where you go- 
 ing as people say, out in this country ? " 
 
 " My mother and I've got a ranch up the Big Blue 
 Valley," proudly informed Terry. " I'm down here 
 buying supplies, but I'm going home to-morrow, early." 
 
 " You are, are you ? Traveling alone ? " 
 
TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 137 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Can you find your way ? " 
 
 "Of course. It's only about five hours." 
 
 " Aren't you afraid of Indians or buffalo? " 
 
 " No," scoffed Terry. " Haven't seen many buffalo. 
 They're getting scared out. But I met an Injun, named 
 Thunder Horse, and* when he tried to stop me because 
 he was drunk I pelted him with eggs. Now his name's 
 Big Omelette ! " 
 
 The young man threw back his head and laughed. 
 
 "You did!" he chuckled. "Good for you! But 
 what's your name? Mine's Harry Revere. I'm from 
 Virginia." 
 
 "Mine's Terry Richards," responded Terry. "I 
 used to be from Ohio, but now I live in Kansas." 
 
 They had reached the stable. Mr. Revere thought- 
 fully surveyed the potatoes and other stuff, to which 
 was added the flour. 
 
 " How do you expect to carry all this ? " he queried. 
 "On one horse?" 
 
 " I guess so," asserted Terry, but rather doubtful, 
 himself. " Maybe I'll have to walk." 
 
 " I'll tell you, Terry," proposed Mr. Revere. " I'm 
 going up that way, and if you don't object to company 
 we'll start together. I've got a horse and can spell you 
 with your load. What do you say ? " 
 
 " Good," agreed Terry. 
 
 "All right. Where are you stopping for the 
 night?" 
 
 " Here," explained Terry a little sheepish. " The 
 livery man said I could sleep in the manger and he 
 
THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 wouldn't charge me, except for the horse. I haven't 
 money enough for hiring a bed." 
 
 " Neither have I," declared Mr. Revere, promptly. 
 " You see, I'm a school teacher, and scholars are scarce. 
 Any chance for a school, your way ? " 
 
 Terry stared. 
 
 " I don't know," he faltered. " We're all busy. I 
 suppose, though, there'll be a school sometime." 
 
 " Of course there will," asserted Mr. Revere. " No- 
 body can civilize a country without schools. Education 
 is the only difference between a white man and a savage. 
 But we won't argue that out, now. You've found a 
 place to sleep, you say; so I must find a place. That 
 manger's not big enough for two, is it? How about 
 the other mangers, I wonder." 
 
 " They're engaged," faltered Terry. " So's the hay- 
 loft but it's just for women so they won't smoke and 
 set it afire. The town's awfully full of people, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Packed," said Mr. Revere. " Let's see. Do you 
 think we could both squeeze into that manger? It's 
 pretty good size." 
 
 " We could try," invited Terry. 
 
 " I might sit up with my legs out, and you could sit 
 in front of me and use me as a pillow," mused Mr. 
 Revere. " Well, we'll do our best. But it's your man- 
 ger, anyway. Have you had supper ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " So've I. I washed dishes first, to pay for it, at 
 the hotel. I'm a first-rate dish washer. Washed my 
 own dishes, which numbered a knife, fork, two spoons, 
 
TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 139 
 
 a plate, a tin cup, and a sauce pan, all through college. 
 Graduated from William and Mary College only last 
 year. Now, are you all done purchasing ? " 
 
 " I've just a couple of things to buy, but I can carry 
 them. They won't weigh much," responded Terry. 
 
 " All right. I've an errand or two, myself. Sup- 
 posing we finish our business and then meet here, for 
 the night." 
 
 They walked out together, and separated to attend to 
 their affairs. Terry spent the last of his money, that 
 he had been reserving because he deemed it was better 
 spent this way than on merely a night's lodging, and 
 was turning back to the stable, when in the dusky, dusty 
 street a crowd and a loud voice attracted him. 
 
 A circle of laughing, curious men had formed at the 
 entrance to a so-called " grocery " where the principal 
 goods sold were liquor. They surrounded two figures ; 
 and as Terry wriggled through, for a view, he saw that 
 the two figures were Mr. Revere and a large, shaggy 
 whiskered, coarse voiced man, who in huge cow-hide 
 boots, sagging jeans trousers, and heavy red flannel 
 shirt, topped by a flaring ragged hat, from under which 
 his hair stuck out all around, was a very unpleasant 
 figure. He appeared to be abusing Mr. Revere, who 
 stood quietly before him. 
 
 " I air askin' you to step inside to the bar, stranger, 
 an' liquor up with me," was rasping the shaggy ruf- 
 fian. 
 
 " Thank you, but as I have already said, I do not 
 care to drink," replied Mr. Revere, coolly. 
 
 " Yes, you do ; for I'm askin'. I air Ike Chubbers. 
 
I 4 o THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Pine Knot Ike they call me whar I come from, on ac- 
 count my bein' so dreff ul tough. I air the only man that 
 ever roped an' rid an alligator. I air half wil' hoss. an* 
 half grizzily b'ar. Now, stranger, do you feel a leetle 
 more like drinkin' ? " 
 
 " No, sir," answered Mr. Revere, still coolly. " I 
 never have felt like it and I never shall. In fact, I'm 
 down-right opposed to liquor at any time and in any 
 shape." 
 
 The shaggy man swelled angrily, and glared down 
 upon Mr. Revere, who reached scarcely to his shoulders 
 and weighed not much more than half of him. 
 
 " You air ! Bound to pick a quarrel with me, air 
 you? I'm powerful slow to wrath, stranger, an' tol- 
 er'ble easy to throw, but I tell you, you shall drink 
 with me." 
 
 " And I tell you, sir, I won't," retorted Mr. Revere, 
 a little pale. 
 
 The shaggy man leaped into the air, as if working 
 himself to fury; and held his clenched fist under Mr. 
 Revere's nose. 
 
 " Stranger," he bellowed, " you air crowdin' me. I 
 leave it to these gentlemen hyar if I'm not the easiest- 
 goin', peace fullest man that ever bit ary nail in two. 
 But you air crowdin' me. You air pickin' a fight with 
 me. You air too fresh from the East, an' you think 
 you can bully me because I air peaceable." And with 
 amazing rapidity the shaggy man had whipped from 
 the bosom of his half-open shirt an enormous horse- 
 pistol and had thrust it right against little Mr. Revere's 
 nose where a moment before his clenched, hairy fist 
 
TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 141 
 
 had been. " Now, stranger/' he continued, loudly, 
 "if you will impose on me, an' air bound to have it 
 so, I'll jest let you know that my wrath is riz, an' if 
 you don't step inside with me I'll natterly lift the top 
 of your head off with this hyar pea-shooter." 
 
 Terry's heart choked him. Were all the crowd going 
 to stand idly and let that big ruffian abuse poor Mr. 
 Revere. But nobody made a move. Everyone seemed 
 to enjoy the quarrel forced by the big man. As for 
 Mr. Revere, he withdrew his nose not an inch. He 
 paled, slightly, his nostrils twitched, but he stayed fast, 
 gazing steadily along the pistol barrel, at the shaggy 
 man. 
 
 " Mr. Chubbers," he said, " I am entirely unarmed, 
 and you have all the advantage. I do not wish to fight, 
 and I do not wish to be murdered in cold blood. I 
 know your character, and assume that you will shoot. 
 Accordingly, if you make me, I shall have to accept 
 your invitation and step inside with you." 
 
 " For a tenderfoot, you show a heap of sense, 
 stranger," commented Mr. Chubbers. 
 
 A snigger spread through the crowd. Mr. Chubbers 
 barely turned his head aside, to wink. But that instant 
 of off guard was enough for Mr. Revere. Up 
 flashed both his hands, he sprang from the muzzle, and 
 with a single vigorous jerk and twist he had wrested 
 the pistol from the astonished Pine Knot Ike who in 
 a twinkling found himself staring into the muzzle, him- 
 self. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Chubbers," drawled Mr. Revere, pant- 
 ing, a Iktk smite on his lips, " we are more even. In 
 
142 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 fact, I am bigger than you are. I will explain that while 
 I never drink liquor, I'm very fond of dancing, and I'm 
 sure these other gentlemen are, too. Will you oblige 
 the company with a little exhibition ? I hear a fiddler 
 inside. Somebody send for him, please." 
 
 " Stranger, I do not keer to dance. I air no dancer," 
 stammered Mr. Chubbers, held spell-bound by the un- 
 wavering pistol. 
 
 " Exactly what I said about drinking," accused Mr. 
 Revere, easily. * My name is Harry Revere, and I am 
 very stubborn more stubborn than a pine knot. Here 
 comes the fiddler, and I insist that you dance." 
 
 " I tell you, I never dance," protested Mr. Chubbers, 
 very ww-easily. " It air ag'in my principles." 
 
 " Sir," demanded Mr. Revere, his voice rising in 
 sudden sternness, " you shall dance. Strike up a double 
 shuffle, fiddler, so Mr. Chubbers can get his cue. Let 
 us have a little more room, gentlemen." 
 
 The fiddler, a darky widely a-smile, put his fiddle 
 to his chin and scraped away. Mr. Chubbers gave an 
 appealing glance around, for sympathy (which he did 
 not find), glared at the pistol muzzle, and began to 
 move his heavy feet. 
 
 " Faster, Mr. Chubbers," bade Mr. Revere. 
 
 Inspired by the rollicking strains of the fiddle, Mr. 
 Chubbers increased his pace. He became quite jaunty, 
 and raising the dust, executed a double-shuffle and, 
 now grinning as the crowd clapped and cheered, per- 
 formed a series of leaps and pigeon-wings. 
 
 " Stop, Mr. Chubbers," suddenly ordered Mr. Re- 
 vere, also laughing. " That will do nicely." And Pine 
 
TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 143 
 
 Knot Ike immediately stopped stock still. " I had no 
 intention of picking a quarrel with you, and I have none 
 now. You picked on me, and you know it. Here is 
 your pistol. I have not even a pen-knife, and you are 
 much the larger. If you wish to murder an unarmed 
 man, there is nothing to prevent you." 
 
 In subdued, uncertain fashion Mr. Chubbers cau- 
 tiously accepted his pistol, and backed away. He exam- 
 ined the pistol, and slowly tucked it into his shirt bosom 
 again. 
 
 " Stranger," he said, huskily, " you air all right. 
 For a tenderfoot an* a school master, you air somewhat 
 of a hoss yourself. I reckon you air a heap bigger'n 
 you look. Shake." 
 
 He extended his large hairy hand; Mr. Revere 
 shook. 
 
 " As it air powerful late an* I have a heap of travel- 
 in* to do, I reckon now I'll be goin' on," remarked Mr. 
 Chubbers, apologetically; and as he retired, the crowd 
 opened for him. 
 
 "The entertainment is finished, gentlemen," an- 
 nounced Mr. Revere, with a bow. "Hello, Terry. 
 Let's go to bed." 
 
 Slipping his arm through Terry's he conducted him 
 away, while the good-natured throng again clapped 
 and cheered. 
 
 " Would you have shot him ? " asked Terry, excited. 
 
 "Not much!" laughed Mr. Revere. "The pistol 
 wasn't cocked ! The hammer fell on my thumb as I 
 grabbed it. See ? " And he showed his humb, bleed- 
 ing where the hammer had landed 
 
144 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Would he have shot you, though ? " asked Terry. 
 
 " I didn't wait to see," laughed Mr. Revere. " I'd 
 made up my mind what to do." 
 
 " He's an awful big fellow," hazarded Terry. 
 
 " Well," mused Mr. Revere, tightening his arm in 
 Terry's, " you can't always tell a man's size by the out- 
 side of him." 
 
 They slept this night in the manger. That is, they 
 started to sleep there, together, much to the astonish- 
 ment of the old mare. Mr. Revere climbed in first, and 
 sat down, half leaning back against the end, his legs 
 outstretched. Terry sat between his knees, and leaned 
 back against his arm. They pulled the hay around 
 them. Really, to Terry it was very comfortable. His 
 feet were under the feed box, and his head was in the 
 hollow of Mr. Revere's shoulder. 
 
 "Great, isn't it!" enthused Mr. Revere. "Got 
 room enough ? " 
 
 " Lots," assured Terry, drowsily. " Have you? " 
 
 " Oceans of it," asserted Mr. Revere. 
 
 From other mangers snores were gurgling. Terry 
 dozed off. He was glad of the feel of Mr. Revere, 
 who held him warmly and firmly. Such company was 
 nice to have, in the darkness. 
 
 But when he awakened, in the daylight, Mr. Revere 
 was gone. For a moment Terry could not conceive 
 where he was, himself : here in a narrow box covered 
 with hay his head pillowed, and the mare staring 
 in at him and gingerly nibbling the hay. Oh, yes ; the 
 manger. And the pillow was Mr. Revere's coat, care- 
 fully folded and well placed. But what had become of 
 the owner ? 
 
TERRY FINDS A PARTNER 145 
 
 As Terry sat up, in alarm, and the mare snorted pro- 
 test, Mr. Revere's smiling face peered in at him. 
 
 " Hello, Terry. Ready for business ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. But where' ve you been? Didn't you 
 sleep in the manger ? " demanded Terry. 
 
 " Certainly I did," claimed Mr. Revere. " Don't you 
 remember how we started off, snug as two bugs in a 
 rug? But you see, Terry, my legs wanted to get up, 
 and the mare wanted to eat; and as I'm an early 
 riser I thought I'd be accommodating to all concerned. 
 So I've been viewing the scenery. It's a beautiful 
 morning." 
 
 He seemed rather worn, did Mr. Revere, with dark 
 circles under his brown eyes. But he looked and spoke 
 so honestly, that Terry dared not dispute him. Not 
 for several years did Terry learn, from his mother, that 
 Mr. Revere had stood the cramps in his legs just as 
 long as he could, until about midnight he had gently 
 slipped away, and had folded his coat for Terry's pil- 
 low, and had spent the rest of the night walking about, 
 to keep warm. 
 
 " I've brought my horse in," continued Mr. Revere, 
 cheerfully. " We'll saddle up and tie our stuff on, and 
 wash at the river; then we'll eat a cold snack that I 
 happen to have, and ride like regular Don Cossacks 
 with their plunder." 
 
 "Will you go clear to the ranch with me?" asked 
 Terry, expectantly. 
 
 " If you ask me hard enough, I might," said Mr. 
 Revere, flushing. " I'm merely looking 'round." 
 
 "And will you stay there?" demanded Terry. 
 
146 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Haven't any other place, have you ? I need another 
 man and you can sleep up in the loft with me." 
 
 " N-no, I haven't any other place, special," con- 
 fessed Mr. Revere. " But who's the boss, on that 
 ranch ? You, or your mother ? She might not like to 
 have such sudden company ? " 
 
 " I guess she's the boss," admitted Terry. " But you 
 won't be company. You can teach me, nights, and days 
 we'll plow and go fishing and hunt buffalo and deer and 
 panthers. And rattlesnakes, too; there are heaps of 
 rattlesnakes." 
 
 " Rattlesnakes? " mused Mr. Revere. " I kept hear- 
 ing a rattlesnake all night. Think there must be one 
 under this manger." 
 
 " Aw," said Terry, blushing, " that's something I'm 
 wearing, 'round my neck. It's a brotherhood sign. 
 George Stanton wears one like it. He's the other 
 brother." 
 
 " This sounds very interesting," acknowledged Mr. 
 Revere. " I believe I'll ride up with you, at any rate, 
 and see what's going on." 
 
 " All right," cried Terry, heartily glad, and tum- 
 bling out. " Maybe we'll meet Thunder Horse on the 
 way." 
 
 " But we haven't any eggs/' laughed Mr. Revere. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 
 
 AT this moment a prolonged " Hee-haw ! Hee-haw ! 
 Hee-ha-aw-aw-aw ! " from outside the stable seemed 
 to summon them. 
 
 " You will observe," quoth Mr. Revere, " that my 
 horse has an unusual voice. And presently I shall ask 
 you to admire her beautiful ears. I judge by her song 
 that she's getting impatient." 
 
 He led out. 
 
 " Her name is Jenny," he said, over his shoulder. 
 
 And that was a very proper name, for his " horse " 
 proved to be a large, raw-boned, yellow mule. At 
 sight of her master, Jenny pricked her extensive ears, 
 and " Hee-hawed " again. She bore a disreputable 
 looking saddle, to which one stirrup was fastened by 
 hide thongs. The leather of the tree had been patched 
 with cow-hide, hair out, and the horn, or pommel, had 
 been broken off and capped, also, with the red cow- 
 hide. As for the bridle, that, likewise, was a thing 
 of pieces. 
 
 But Mr. Revere appeared not a whit apologetic. 
 
 " Jenny is not pretty, but she loves me," he stated. 
 
 "Does she ride easy?" queried Terry. "Some 
 mules ride easier than a horse." 
 
 147 
 
148 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 "And some don't," responded Mr. Revere, drily. 
 " Jennie is a creature of two minds. Her hinder half 
 is eager and willing, but her front half is very deliber- 
 ate; and when they meet in the middle, she rather 
 hunches up. That is where I sit, as judge and jury, 
 and the two halves fight it out under me. But," he 
 added, stroking Jenny's nose while she blissfully closed 
 her eyes, " Jenny loves me, and she rarely bites." 
 
 Terry saddled his mare; and he and Mr. Revere 
 loaded the supplies aboard the horse and the yellow 
 mule, tied fast sacks and all, then mounted, themselves. 
 
 At the river they washed and ate the cold snack pro- 
 vided by Mr. Revere, and were ready to start. 
 
 " Supposing," proffered Mr. Revere, as they headed 
 up the valley, for " home ", " that you call me Harry, 
 and see how I like it. Jenny tries, but she has great 
 difficulty in pronouncing. She says ' Hee-haw-ry/ 
 How do you say it ? " 
 
 " Harry," promptly demonstrated Terry. 
 
 " Well done," praised Mr. Revere. " I like it first- 
 rate." 
 
 So, gaily chatting, Terry and his new partner Harry 
 rode up the green sparkling Valley of the Big Blue, in 
 Kansas Territory of May, 1858. 
 
 Yes, the yellow mule certainly had an odd gait, in 
 both trot and lope. Her legs were long and loose; 
 and whereas the hind pair reached forward the front 
 pair held back, so that betwixt the two Mr. Revere was 
 constantly bounced up and down. He did not seem to 
 mind. 
 
 They did not meet any Thunder Horse, but because 
 
THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 149 
 
 of their loads and their chatting they spent rather more 
 than the five hours on the trip, and not until almost 
 noon did they arrive in sight of the ranch cabin. 
 
 "See it?" bade Terry. "This is the ranch, and 
 there's the house." 
 
 He quickened the pace of the fat mare, who, nothing 
 loth to greet her waiting colt, broke into a lope. The 
 yellow mule, with long ears jutted forward, humped 
 beside. Mr. Revere's eyes roved over the pleasant 
 landscape. 
 
 " It looks like a right good piece of land," he com- 
 mented. 
 
 " And there,'* triumphantly announced Terry, " is 
 my mother, in the doorway. She's expecting me." 
 
 " That," declared Mr. Revere, " is the best sight of 
 all." 
 
 Everything appeared to be peaceful and serene. 
 Terry felt as though he had been gone a great while, for 
 much had happened to him. He waved to his mother, 
 and she waved back, and peered, as if she were a bit 
 astonished to see him arriving with company. 
 
 Now Shep ran forward barking, to protect her but 
 he speedily changed his note when he recognized Terry 
 and the mare. The colt whinnied, the mare answered, 
 Pete the turkey gobbled, the sun-flowers on the sod roof 
 nodded, the garden stuff certainly had grown a foot in 
 the thirty hours and reining his mare at the cabin 
 door, Terry on a sudden was in his mother's arms. 
 
 " Oh, but I'm glad to see you! " she exclaimed, hug- 
 ging him. " Did you get everything? " 
 
 "Looks like it, doesn't it?" bubbled Terry. "I 
 
150 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 spent all our money and slept in a manger, and I met 
 old Thunder Horse and had to throw the eggs at him 
 but they aren't worth much, anyway, and the man at 
 the fort promised to take our hay and potatoes and tim- 
 ber every bit; and, ma, I think I saw father, but he 
 didn't know me and maybe it wasn't he, and he's gone 
 on out to the mountains ; and I brought a partner see ? 
 He slept in the manger with me, and he'll teach me 
 sums nights and help farm, days. Can he stay, ma ? " 
 
 After hearing such a rattle of words Terry's mother 
 gazed rather bewildered upon Mr. Revere ; whereupon 
 he dismounted from his yellow mule, and gallantly re- 
 moved his dusty hat. 
 
 " I am Harry Revere, madam," he introduced him- 
 self. " Late of Virginia. Terry and I met up, at Man- 
 hattan, and as he had quite a load I engaged to ride 
 along with him, on his way, and see what the prospects 
 are f o? a school, in this section. I am a school-teacher. 
 However, I have no thought of intruding upon you; 
 and now with Terry safely landed, I will ride on." 
 
 " No, indeed you won't, sir," protested Terry's 
 mother. " You will stay to dinner, at least." 
 
 " Yes, and he'll stay all night and sleep up in the loft 
 with me, and he'll keep staying on maybe forever; 
 won't he, mother?" pleaded Terry. 
 
 Mr. Revere laughed. 
 
 " Terry seems bent on making large contracts," he 
 said. " But I will stay to dinner, with pleasure, and 
 thank you, madam. Let's unpack our noble steeds, 
 Terry." 
 
 They unpacked the mare and the mule, carried the 
 
THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 151 
 
 stuff inside, and put the animals in the corral, while 
 Mrs. Richards bustled getting dinner. 
 
 It was a lively meal, for Terry had much to recount. 
 His mother agreed that he had done very well and 
 also that "Mr. Jones " might have been his father. 
 She was sure that she would have known. At any rate, 
 they could still believe that he was alive, and would re- 
 turn to them. This was some comfort. And she did 
 not mind the loss of the eggs ; she thought that they had 
 been used to good purpose, and that Terry had been 
 smart, to defend himself so handily. 
 
 Now, with the fort ready to take whatever they could 
 produce, the ranch work loomed more important than 
 ever. 
 
 "If Mr. Revere wishes to stay with us ," 
 
 ventured Terry's mother, looking at the school teacher 
 for answer. " Until he finds something better. We 
 can't pay him, but we will share and share alike." 
 
 " All I ask is a share in your home, Mrs. Richards." 
 And Terry thought that Mr. Revere's eyes filled up. 
 " If you'll let me play second fiddle to Terry I'll milk 
 the cows " 
 
 " But we haven't any cow, yet," interrupted Terry. 
 
 " Well, milk the chickens, then ; and curry the oxen 
 and " 
 
 " Oh, shucks ! " cried Terry. " Weren't you ever on 
 a farm before?" 
 
 " And climb for potatoes and plow the pumpkins and 
 hay " 
 
 "Oh, you're joking!" accused Terry. "Nobody 
 plows hay!" 
 
152 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Well, I mean I'm willing to do anything, possible 
 or not," explained Mr. Revere, " if a home is attached 
 to it. I haven't had a home for some years, and to me 
 a home is the greatest prize on earth." 
 
 " There isn't any ' homier ' home than this," loyally 
 asserted Terry. " Except that my father isn't here 
 but he will be." 
 
 So it was arranged that Mr. Revere should stay, and 
 should be one of the family, until he wanted to leave. 
 
 " I declare," sighed Mrs. Richards. " I'm as glad 
 as Terry is. We certainly need another man." 
 
 And that was just what Terry had said. 
 
 " Supposing," quoth Mr. Revere, after dinner, 
 "that Terry shows me over the farm. Then I can 
 know what to do first, to earn my keep." 
 
 Eager to do so was Terry. He proudly exhibited the 
 spring 
 
 " Ought to clean that out, cover it over, and lead it 
 down to the house," remarked Mr. Revere. 
 
 And the panther skin 
 
 " We'll have to watch out for her mate," remarked 
 Mr. Revere. 
 
 And the garden 
 
 " Needs a little hoeing, doesn't it ? " remarked Mr. 
 Revere. " The weeds might object but the potatoes 
 wouldn't, and it's time the things were hilled, most of 
 them." 
 
 And the corn field. 
 
 " First class," commended Mr. Revere. 
 
 And the hay field 
 
 " That ought to run two tons to the acre," asserted 
 
THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 153 
 
 Mr. Revere. "You've got about 100 acres, haven't 
 you?" 
 
 And from a distance the timber patch 
 
 "There's where we get our fence rails," jubilated 
 Mr. Revere. "Also shingles. Did you ever split 
 rails?" 
 
 " You seem to know a lot about farming," hazarded 
 Terry, admiringly. 
 
 " Just a little," admitted the modest Mr. Revere 
 who did not look at all like a farmer. " I'm a school- 
 master, but I was raised on a farm." 
 
 " I think," he uttered, reflectively, as they walked 
 back toward the house, " that the first thing to do is to 
 put in some oats. We can break that meadow next to 
 the corn. Had you figured on oats ? " 
 
 " Not yet," confessed Terry, somewhat aghast at the 
 prospect of more plowing. " You see, I haven't had 
 time." 
 
 " You'll need oats, for the horses ; and you can sell 
 them to the fort, too ; and the straw will come in mighty 
 handy, this winter, for bedding the animals and filling 
 your mother's ticks. And next we ought to bring the 
 spring water down close to the house, so your mother 
 will have it handy." 
 
 " All right," agreed Terry. 
 
 They paused at the corral, to stake the mare out, to 
 graze. The colt accompanied her. 
 
 " And after breaking the meadow and tending to the 
 spring, we ought to break that colt," resumed Mr. 
 Revere. " He's big enough to help on this ranch the 
 lazy rascal." 
 
154 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 That very afternoon Mr. Revere set himself at work 
 plowing the meadow for oats. It was high time that 
 they were put in. A sack of oats had been brought out 
 along with the other supplies, from Ohio, so Terry's 
 father evidently had planned to plant some. 
 
 Terry tackled the garden, with a hoe. George, with 
 Virgie behind his saddle, rode over, during the after- 
 noon. 
 
 " Who's that? " he asked, pointing toward the plow- 
 man. 
 
 " He's my partner," answered Terry, proudly. " His 
 name's Harry Revere. He's from Virginia, but I met 
 him down at Manhattan and he's going to stay and help 
 on the ranch and teach me sums nights, because he's a 
 school teacher." 
 
 " Aw, shucks ! " derided George. " A school teacher ! 
 You stay here, Virgie. I want to see how straight he 
 can plow." 
 
 Off loped George. He and Mr. Revere talked to- 
 gether for a few minutes ; then Mr. Revere resumed his 
 plowing and George came back. 
 
 " He's not very big, is he ! But he can plow. Those 
 furrows are as straight as anybody's. I guess he's all 
 right. He said he'd teach Virgie and me, too, any time 
 we wanted to come over." 
 
 " Of course he's all right," retorted Terry. 
 
 " Did you have any fun on your trip ? We heard 
 you'd gone." 
 
 " I should say I did. Had an egg fight with Thunder 
 Horse, and ate with the top sergeant at the fort, and 
 met some gold seekers going to the mountains and one 
 
THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 155 
 
 of them might be my father, and slept all night in a 
 manger, and but wait, I'll tell you." So he did. 
 
 George and Virgie were much impressed. 
 
 " You ought to have rattled your rattle at Thunder 
 Horse," advised George. 
 
 " He was more afraid of eggs than he would have 
 been of any rattle," laughed Terry. " But Mr. Revere 
 heard the rattle, when we were in the manger, and he 
 thought it was a sure 'nough snake." 
 
 "Did it scare him?" 
 
 " Don't believe so. He's not the scary kind. You 
 ought to have seen how he handled that big bully at 
 Manhattan Pine Knot Ike." And Terry told that, 
 also. 
 
 " I guess he is all right," declared George. " Maybe 
 we'll admit him into our clan. But first he'll have to 
 kill a snake with thirteen rattles." 
 
 Presently George and Virgie galloped away, to carry 
 their news home. 
 
 Mr. Revere finished the plowing of the oat patch the 
 next day, while Terry rode the drag, drawn by the yel- 
 low mule. The five acres having been cleared, Mr. 
 Revere harrowed the ground, and Terry scattered the 
 oats. When these were harrowed in, the job was 
 done and well done, too. Assuredly, having a part- 
 ner made a big difference. 
 
 Terry's mother was relieved to have the oats in at 
 last, but she was more pleased when her " two men ", 
 as she called them, " moved the spring " for her. The 
 spring was located half way up a little rise, behind the 
 cabin. First the spring was cleaned out, into basin 
 
156 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 shape, and lined with rocks and pebbles from the creek. 
 Mr. Stanton had hauled a load of lumber from Man- 
 hattan, and enough planks were borrowed to make a 
 trough Terry and Mr. Revere engaging to trade labor 
 for them. Mr. Revere cleverly hollowed out a pithy 
 elder branch, for a spigot, and stuck it through the side 
 of the barrel. Then the trough, of planks nailed and 
 pegged together by the edges, at right angles (with tin 
 covering their end joints) was laid on sticks crossed 
 scissors shape to lift it out of the way of the chickens, 
 from the spring basin to the top of the barrel. It over- 
 flowed through the elder-wood spigot, so at any time 
 Mrs. Richards could set a pan or pail under the spigot 
 and did not have to dip. 
 
 The waste water was carried by a trench to the edge 
 of the garden, and Mr. Revere figured that in a dry 
 spell they could flow the water right into the garden! 
 Besides, the chickens drank out of the trench instead 
 of trying to drink out of the trough. 
 
 Over the top of the barrel was spread a gunny sack, 
 and Mrs. Richards tied a piece of muslin across the 
 end of the trough, to strain out dirt. It was not a large 
 spring. The barrel remained just so full, the water was 
 cold, and although the trough leaked some until it 
 swelled tight, the new arrangement was voted to be 
 bully. 
 
 One queer thing was noted, later, about that spring. 
 It never froze, even in the coldest weather. 
 
 " The next thing," remarked Mr. Revere, at supper, 
 " we ought to break that colt. He's old enough to be 
 taught his manners, and how to be useful. He just 
 
THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 157 
 
 laughs, now, whenever he sees the rest of us working." 
 
 " But who'll do it, Harry ? " queried Mrs. Richards. 
 
 Harry Revere thoughtfully scratched his nose. 
 
 " I'll try," he said. 
 
 " But you have that lame foot, you know," reminded 
 Mrs. Richards. 
 
 " In Virginia, Mother Richards, ma'am," proclaimed 
 Mr. Revere, " we are taught to ride with our legs and 
 not with our feet. Anyway, the colt has to be broken. 
 Then Terry can have him, I'll have the mule, and you 
 can visit the neighbors on the old mare ! " 
 
 " Did you ever break a colt ? " demanded Terry. 
 
 "Never did," admitted Mr. Revere. "But down 
 South when I wasn't more than half your size I've 
 ridden them before they were broken I and the pick- 
 aninnies. We used to run races." 
 
 In the morning, after breakfast, they were surveying 
 the colt, in the corral, preparatory to starting in on him, 
 when a strange man rode up. He was a leathery- 
 complexioned, long-haired Mexican, evidently, under 
 an enormous peaked sombrero ; wearing a gay cherry- 
 colored shirt, tight black velvet trousers slashed with 
 yellow, and on his heels spurs six inches in diameter. 
 His little pony was almost hidden by the saddle, and 
 the curb bit of the jingling bridle was oozing bloody 
 froth. 
 
 But the Mexican sat easily, while his pony tossed 
 its tortured head. 
 
 " Buenos dias ( Good day) , senors," he accosted. He 
 noted the colt, and the rope in Mr. Revere's hand. 
 " Mebbe you got hoss to brek; si? I brek heem." 
 
158 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Horse breaker, are you ? " replied Mr. Revere. 
 
 The Mexican flashed his white teeth in a smile. 
 
 " Si, si. One dollar. Brek hoss, one dollar. Any 
 hoss, one dollar. My beez'ness hoss buster. Ride 
 ever' where, brek hosses." 
 
 " Better let him do it, Harry," called Mrs. Richards, 
 from the cabin doorway. 
 
 " But a dollar's an awful lot of money." 
 
 " But I'd rather pay it than have you orTerrry hurt. 
 That would be worse. He's a professional, he says, and 
 he'll know how." 
 
 " Humph ! " murmured Mr. Revere, scratching his 
 nose a favorite habit when he was ruminating. 
 
 " I brek heem ? " eagerly invited the Mexican. 
 
 " Go ahead. How long will it take? " 
 
 " Not long. I brek heem queek. I show heem." 
 And the Mexican was off his pony in an instant, 
 dropped his lines to the ground, and began to take down 
 his hair rope. 
 
 " What do you calculate to do ? " questioned Mr. 
 Revere. 
 
 " Ketch heem with rope, throw down, tie hees eyes, 
 put on saddle an' bridle; he run, I ride bueno. No 
 let heem quit." And coiling his hair rope over his 
 shoulder, the Mexican began to loosen the saddle cinch. 
 
 " Wait a minute," bade Mr. Revere. " You catch 
 him with that rope by the neck and choke him till he 
 tumbles over ; si ? " 
 
 " Si, si ! " nodded the Mexican. 
 
 " Then somebody sits on his head while you blind- 
 fold him." 
 
THE PARTNER GETS BUSY 159 
 
 " Si, senor." 
 
 " You put that saddle on him and turn him over and 
 strap it tight." 
 
 " Si/' 
 
 " Going to use that bit, are you? " 
 
 " Si. Fine bit. He get mad, 'mos' bust hees jaw." 
 
 " So you force that bit into his mouth and that 
 bridle over his head. Going to use those spurs, too ? " 
 
 " Si, si. When he get tired, spur mek heem jump." 
 The saddle was stripped off, and off came the bridle. 
 Terry saw that the bit was crooked, in the middle, 
 with a square ' U ; ' and that the cross-piece forming 
 the bottom of the ' U ' was set with a little disk ; when 
 the bridle lines were pulled, this ' U ' turned bottom 
 up, and forced the horse's jaws open while the disk 
 cut into the roof of his mouth. 
 
 " Not by a long shot ! " suddenly exclaimed Mr. 
 Revere. " First you frighten the animal out of all 
 his senses, while he's helpless, then when he resists you 
 torture him till he drops. That ' breaks ' him and 
 I don't wonder. No, sir; we'll tend to this colt our- 
 selves." 
 
 " Oh, I'd rather have him never touched at all, than 
 broken that way," voiced Terry's mother. " When I 
 said I'd pay, I'd no idea ! " 
 
 Terry had viewed the preparations aghast. The 
 cruel bit and spurs rather took the breath out of him. 
 The Mexican, who had understood only that objec- 
 tions were being made, stared puzzled. Mr. Revere, 
 his rope in his hand, promptly entered the corral. 
 
 "We'll break the colt to be useful," he declared; 
 
160 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " but we won't break his heart. We'll make a horse 
 of him, not a machine." 
 
 " Don't you need a saddle and bridle, Harry? " called 
 Mrs. Richards. 
 
 " Not yet. How'd you like to wake up with a 
 saddle strapped 'round you and a bridle on your face ? " 
 challenged Mr. Revere. 
 
 He limped straight to the colt, who pricked his 
 ears and sidled about his interested mother. But he 
 was a tame colt, and accustomed to petting. Mr. 
 Revere spoke soothingly to him, patted his flank, and 
 slowly slipped a hand along until it smoothed the colt's 
 velvety nose. Gently, gently, he changed the rope 
 noose to that hand, opened it on his arm, and with even 
 movement transferred it to the colt's neck. 
 
 " Come on, boy," he bade, with a final pat ; and in 
 matter-of-fact way led the colt about the corral. The 
 colt pulled and danced a little, but he followed ; when- 
 ever he did pull, Mr. Revere yielded, and waited, 
 coaxing him. 
 
 "Open the bars, Terry," ordered Mr. Revere. 
 " And stand aside, everybody." 
 
 He succeeded in coaxing the colt out, while the 
 mother whinnied anxiously. 
 
 " We'll be back, old lady," assured Mr. Revere. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 HARRY RIDES THE COLT 
 
 HARRY spent several minutes experimenting, strok- 
 ing the colt on the nose, and patting his shoulders and 
 side, until the colt, although trembling and suspicious, 
 suffered an arm to be laid across his back. 
 
 Harry leaned harder, and slowly left the ground. 
 On a sudden he was aboard. Terry held his breath, 
 his mother uttered a little exclamation of anxiety, the 
 Mexican, stock-still, gazed curiously the colt shrank, 
 under the weight, snorted, and while Mr. Revere spoke 
 and patted his neck, sprang, bulging-eyed. He was 
 away, veering and running ; and riding like an Indian, 
 Mr. Revere sat tight and let him go. 
 
 " Bueno, bueno ! " cheered the Mexican, excited. 
 
 "He'll fall off! He'll be hurt!" cried Terry's 
 mother. " Why did he do it? " 
 
 " No, he won't," hopefully answered Terry ; but he 
 had some doubts, himself. 
 
 However, Harry had not fallen off, yet. Sitting 
 bareback, with nothing, not even a bridle, to hold on 
 by, except his legs, he clung fast, his hair streaming, 
 his body yielding to every lunge of the colt. It was a 
 great sight. 
 
 161 
 
162 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Out through the oat patch dashed the colt, through 
 the corn, and almost to the creek. He turned, and 
 sped back. His rider could be heard talking to him. 
 
 " Whoa, boy! Steady, now." 
 
 The rope hung lax, so that he ran free. Past the 
 corral they flashed, on another circuit. Mr. Revere's 
 face was flushed by the breeze, and he had time merely 
 to wave his hand reassuringly. But how he could 
 ride! Returning again, the colt was running less 
 frenziedly; he showed a disposition to slacken, at the 
 corral and Harry, with a shake of the rope, urged 
 him on. 
 
 " He's finding out who's master," called Harry. 
 " I can guide him a little " and actually did. 
 
 The colt shook his head, but coursed along. 
 
 Now a new voice chimed in. 
 
 "Bravo! There's a rider !" 
 
 It was the voice of Sol Judy, the Californian, who 
 had arrived here in the midst of events and was sitting 
 his horse, watching. 
 
 " What man's that? " asked Sol. 
 
 " He's Harry Revere, my partner," explained Terry, 
 proudly. " He's breaking the colt." 
 
 " He is, is he ? That his business ? You've got 
 another buster here. Hello, Manuel?" And Mr. 
 Judy nodded to the Mexican. 
 
 " No, sir ; he's a school teacher." 
 
 " School master ! " And Mr. Judy laughed loudly. 
 " Well, if he can educate boys like he can horses he 
 must be a humdinger. He's a regular vaquero; eh, 
 Manuel?" 
 
HARRY RIDES THE COLT 163 
 
 " Bueno ! Si, si," agreed the Mexican, watching 
 fascinated. 
 
 The colt was coming back at a canter, as if willing 
 to quit. His hide was wet with sweat. At a slight 
 tug of the rope, stop he did, before the little group; 
 and from his back Mr. Revere grinned cheerfully. The 
 colt cautiously turned his head and sniffed at his rider's 
 leg, as if wondering what kind of a thing this was, 
 on his back. Mr. Revere reached forward to pat his 
 nose. 
 
 " Whoa, boy. You* re all right. Want to ride him, 
 Terry?" he asked. 
 
 " I'd just as lief," asserted Terry. 
 
 " No, not yet, Terry," pleaded his mother. 
 
 " Wait. I'd show you how gentle this colt is, now 
 he isn't frightened." Harry kicked off his shoes. 
 " Gwan, colt," he ordered, gaily, with slap of the rope. 
 
 " Look, look ! " gasped Terry's mother ; for as the 
 colt rebelliously loped along, Harry had risen upright 
 and was standing like a circus rider. 
 
 Yes, there he was, standing straight and balancing 
 easily, in spite of his lame foot. Back he came but 
 at a sudden turn of the colt he had to sit down. No ! 
 Look! 
 
 " For mercy-sakes-alive ! " ejaculated Terry's 
 mother. 
 
 Harry was standing on his hands, his feet in the 
 air. Just as the colt arrived, Harry flopped off and 
 landed on the ground, where, holding the colt, he bowed 
 and panted. 
 
 " Bueno, bueno ! " cheered the Mexican. " You 
 vaquero, hey?" 
 
164 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Whoopee ! " yelped Sol Judy, as if enthused. 
 " Gimme room." He spurred his horse at a mad, 
 tearing gallop he, too, stood in the saddle. Plumping 
 down again, he swerved his horse in figures of eight 
 sprang off bounding beside, vaulted on again; 
 dropped his handkerchief, and bending low as he re- 
 passed at top speed, hung far and cleverly picked it up ; 
 fumbled at the saddle uncinched it let it slide from 
 beneath him removed the bridle, too dropped his 
 boots and (all at top speed) leaping to earth, holding 
 his horse only by the lariat ran after like a deer and at 
 a spring was on his back. He stood, turned about, and 
 came riding with his face to the rear. 
 
 As he jumped off they all clapped and cheered. 
 
 " You didn't stand on your hands, though," re- 
 minded Terry. 
 
 " No," laughed Sol. " Never tried that. Can't stand 
 on 'em on the ground. But where'd you learn to ride, 
 stranger? " he queried of Mr. Revere. 
 
 " Oh, I was brought up with horses, down in Vir- 
 ginia," replied Harry. 
 
 " You're a humdinger," praised Sol. 
 
 " Oh, anybody who can ride that yellow mule of 
 mine can ride an easy-gaited colt," laughed Harry. 
 " But you're somewhat of a humdinger, yourself." 
 
 After being well petted, all around, and given a lick 
 of sugar by Mrs. Richards, the colt was turned out to 
 pasture with his anxious mother. Manuel the Mexi- 
 can horse-breaker saddled up and rode off, in his gay 
 shirt, on his chafing pony, for whom Terry felt sorry. 
 
HARRY RIDES THE COLT 165 
 
 " I came past, ma'am," announced Sol, to Mrs. 
 Richards, " to see how you're getting along, and to 
 say that in my opinion your husband is alive and ac- 
 tive, and has traveled on west for the mountains with a 
 party of gold seekers." 
 
 " I met him ! " exclaimed Terry. 
 
 Sol listened attentively to the story. 
 
 " That's the man, I reckon," he nodded. " By name 
 of Jones. There was a man with a bad knock on the 
 head picked up by some freighters and taken on east 
 up the trail, over a month ago. Teared confused like; 
 but he seemed to get well, and, far as I can make out, 
 he joined in with the Green Russell party for the 
 mountains. But they've got too big a start to be 
 overhauled now." 
 
 " He'll come back," asserted Terry's mother, just 
 as she always said. 
 
 " He will, ma'am," encouraged Sol. " Some day 
 he'll wake up and know who he is. It's a wild-goose 
 chase, anyhow. I look to see 'em all back before winter 
 or next spring, at the latest." 
 
 Sol Judy rode away. The work on the ranch con- 
 tinued. The corn and the garden were coming on 
 finely, and soon the oat patch was green with the 
 myriad spears. The chickens and Pete the tamed 
 turkey thrived on the innumerable bugs and worms 
 and seeds. Spot and Buck, the oxen, grew fat and 
 rather lazy, for with the mare and the yellow mule 
 to help with the work, they had an easy-going time. 
 
 As for the colt, he took readily to saddle and bridle, 
 gently applied; and Terry made no bones of mount- 
 
i66 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 ing him rode him down to George's, and every- 
 where. 
 
 These were busy days. There seemed to be no 
 chance of starting a school among the valley settlers, 
 while the crops were coming on, and Terry was glad 
 of it. He needed his partner. But evenings, Mrs. 
 Richards brought out the blue-backed Webster's spell- 
 ing-book, or Harry brought out the arithmetic or 
 geography that he had used at college, and they held 
 a little school of their own. George came over, when- 
 ever he could, to join in. And on Sundays nobody 
 worked, except to do the regular chores. Some chap- 
 ters in the Bible were read aloud by Terry's mother or 
 by Harry ; the Stantons came over to the Richards' or 
 the Richards went over to the Stantons'; and Terry 
 and Harry usually walked down to the timber along 
 the creek. 
 
 The timber and the creek made about the best place 
 on the ranch, except, of course, the cabin. Harry 
 estimated that the timber crop, for fuel and rails and 
 lumber, was the most valuable crop that the ranch had. 
 There were lots of fruit, too, growing wild: walnuts, 
 hickory nuts (these would not ripen before fall, of 
 course), plums, mulberries, may-apples (that grew 
 on carroty roots, in the shade), strawberries (in the 
 open places), raspberries, and gooseberries which 
 would be fine for jam. 
 
 Besides, there was the creek itself, where a fellow 
 could take a swim after supper, summer evenings, to get 
 cooled off and cleaned up ; there were the turkeys, in- 
 cluding several coveys of baby ones, and deer or at 
 
HARRY RIDES THE COLT 167 
 
 least plenty of tracks; maybe the he-panther, mate to 
 the skin on the cabin wall; and the bee tree. 
 
 The bee tree was discovered in this wise on a Sun- 
 day afternoon when George was over and he and 
 Terry and Harry Revere were taking a walk down 
 toward the timber. 'Twas odd, too, that this very 
 morning the chapters from the Bible had included one 
 about a land of " milk and honey." 
 
 " Wish we had some, don't you, ma? " had appealed 
 Terry, smacking his lips. 
 
 " I wish we had the milk, anyway," had admitted 
 his mother. " That's the hardest thing to do without 
 that and butter. But if we could get a cow, we'd 
 have both." 
 
 A little milk could be obtained from the Stantons, 
 and a little butter ; but not nearly enough, and Terry 
 fully agreed that to do without was a real trial. 
 
 Harry scratched his nose. 
 
 " I don't see any cow, just now," he confesse'd. 
 " There's honey, though." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " All around." 
 
 "Aw, in the flowers!" scoffed Terry. "But we 
 aren't bees; we can't suck it out." 
 
 " No," mused Harry. " I guess we'll have to do a 
 little trading." 
 
 What he meant he did not say. However, on the 
 afternoon walk he appeared unusually thoughtful. He 
 paused on the edge of the cornfield, where the corn 
 was tasseling. A myriad of bees were busy gathering 
 pollen. 
 
i68 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 "Bees," he addressed, "where are you-all going 
 with our pollen and our honey." 
 
 " The flowers were here first, before we were," 
 corrected George. 
 
 " But the corn wasn't," argued Harry. " And on 
 this ranch we all work together. What I want to know, 
 is, where these bees are going." 
 
 The bees arrived with a rush ; they clawed about, on 
 the tassels, filling their leg pouches with the yellow 
 pollen then they let go and sometimes almost turn- 
 ing a somersault in their eagerness buzzed away like 
 golden bullets on the back trail. 
 
 " They're all going yonder," declared Terry. " See ? 
 Off toward the timber." 
 
 " So are we, then," announced Harry. " Come on, 
 and keep your eyes on the bees." He limped for the 
 timber. 
 
 " What is it ? A bee tree ? " queried George, as with 
 Terry and Shep, both mystified, he followed. 
 
 " Hope so. All that honey and pollen is being 
 stored somewhere, isn't it?" 
 
 " But, shucks ! " scoffed George. " There are about 
 a thousand trees. We can't follow all these bees, can 
 we ? They'll mix us up. The way the bee-hunters do 
 in Indiana is to catch a bee and feed him honey, and 
 paint him and tie a white rag to his leg and then follow 
 him; and when he gets away, catch another." 
 
 "All right," said Harry. "You catch a bee and 
 tie your handkerchief to his leg or tie a long thread 
 to it and hold the other end." 
 
 " No, sir-ee ! " objected George. 
 
HARRY RIDES THE COLT 169 
 
 They met many bees, winging swiftly close over 
 their heads, making for the corn ; and as many passed 
 them, in the opposite direction. Terry noted that 
 the bees on the flowers, also, having finished loading 
 with honey and pollen rose abruptly and launched 
 for the timber. 
 
 But at the timber edge the bees were still going in 
 and coming out. Harry paused, and surveyed the 
 trees and scratched his nose. 
 
 " We'd better separate, I think. One of you on 
 the right, and one on the left; and I'll stay in the 
 middle. When any of us get to where the bees with 
 the honey are coming toward us, we'll know we've 
 passed the home. And when they're making off kitty- 
 corner instead of straight away, we'll know their 
 home is at one side. So we'll have to change direc- 
 tion, too. Understand ? " 
 
 " Sure," assented George. " Just keep tracking *em." 
 
 " And when you find the center, where all the bees 
 come together, listen hard and look sharp, and yell 
 to the rest of us." 
 
 George took the right, Terry took the left and so, 
 of course, did Shep. Pretty soon they lost sight of 
 one another, in the brush and trees. 
 
 Terry proceeded cautiously. Very pleasant was it, 
 here in the fragrant, warm timber flecked by sun and 
 shade. The majority of the flowering trees had 
 dropped their petals and were showing fruit; but sun 
 and shade alike proffered a succession of flowers on the 
 shrubs and plants, and the bees had abundant forage. 
 
170 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Terry kept his eyes on the bees, when they lighted 
 and rose again. 
 
 He had proceeded only a short distance, when it 
 seemed to him that the bees were changing direction 
 just as Harry had suggested that they might. He 
 stopped. Yes, sir ! Watch that patch of blue flowers, 
 and you see most of the bees coming in sort of from 
 the right, and lighting, and clawing, and darting off 
 to the right. They disappeared mighty quick, in the 
 trees, but that is where they went. 
 
 So Terry followed by Shep, much puzzled but will- 
 ing to help turned to the right, himself. 
 
 The bees led him in a half circle, as he was tempted 
 more and more to the right. They were tantalizing 
 things. They never met him when they were loaded; 
 they always were lighting, clawing, and flying away 
 again. And suddenly he found himself staring hard 
 at the same patch of blue flowers. The very same 
 patch ! He recognized it by that log with the big yellow 
 fungus growing on the dead bark. Humph ! He had 
 made a whole circle. Shep gazed up at him inquiringly, 
 as if to ask: " Well, what next? What you looking 
 for now ? " 
 
 But instantly Terry knew. The bees were still 
 swerving, laden, to the right; always to the right : 
 and their home was somewhere inside that circle ! 
 
 He cut in, peering, listening, eyes and ears wide open, 
 and Shep, imitating him, sneaked along behind, to 
 back him up in this mysterious hunt. The bees began 
 to be more and more difficult to mark. They landed 
 like bullets dropping, and rose like rockets straight 
 up. Terry heard a vague humming, and craned his 
 
HARRY RIDES THE COLT 171 
 
 neck. The bees were darting every which way the 
 leafy branches were full of them, high above his head. 
 He circled around and around, stumbling on the brush ; 
 and Shep, evidently expectant of a squirrel, continued 
 to imitate him. 
 
 " I see it ! " exclaimed Terry. " Hurrah ! " 
 
 It was fat burr-oak tree, the spreading branches 
 alive with the bees arriving from all directions. Face 
 up-turned, he trod around and around it, like a squir- 
 rel hunter indeed. He heard a confusing drone and 
 when he stumbled against the trunk, and his cheek 
 brushed it, the drone was louder. He pressed his ear 
 to the rough bark; the trunk fairly vibrated, from 
 within. He kicked it, and thought it sounded hollow. 
 There were bees inside, at any rate. And presently, 
 as he circled and peered, he saw them passing in and 
 out of a hole, at least twenty feet aloft. A regular 
 stream of them! He had found a bee tree! 
 
 " Whoo-ee ! " sang Terry, excited. " Whoo-ee ! " 
 
 " Whoo-ee ! " came the answer. " Where are 
 you?" 
 
 "Right here. I found it!" 
 
 " You did ! " George crashed through the brush, 
 and appeared, hurrying. " Where is it ? " 
 
 "This big oak. Hear 'em? See 'em?" 
 
 " I should say ! " gasped George, hot and wet. 
 pl I'd have found it, too. I've been right on the trail, 
 making this way. Now we'll have to get axes and 
 cut it down." 
 
 "Won't they sting us?" 
 
 " Not much, if we smoke 'em first. Build a fire of 
 
172 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 rotten wood and chop a hole below 'em and send the 
 smoke up through." 
 
 " Supposing we can't find a hole low enough." 
 
 " Chop the tree down anyway, I guess/' hazarded 
 George. "Then make a smudge, and fight with 
 branches and things, till the bees quit." 
 
 The job did not look very inviting ; already the bees 
 were taking offense, as if understanding the danger 
 to their store. Shep dropped his tail, in alarm. 
 
 " We can't do it to-day, anyhow," said Terry. " It's 
 Sunday." 
 
 "Shucks!" uttered George, realizing. "That's 
 so." And he added : " Listen ! Harry's calling. 
 
 They answered. Harry answered. Shep pricked 
 his ears. 
 
 " He isn't coming. Guess he wants us. Come on. 
 We'll remember where the tree is." And Terry hustled 
 away, with George regretfully following. 
 
 Harry was standing on the edge of a little bay or 
 open clearing, of the timber edge, which faced the 
 direction of the cabin. 
 
 " We found it," cried Terry. 
 
 " Terry found it, but I've seen it," corrected George. 
 " It's a big oak." 
 
 "How high are they?" 
 
 " 'Way up." 
 
 "We'll have to cut it down, then, sometime. I'll 
 look at it to-morrow. Now let's go back to the house. 
 We've got company ; see ? " 
 
 They looked. Several horses were standing at the 
 
HARRY RIDES THE COLT 
 
 '73 
 
 cabin door; so were several men, and Mrs. Richards 
 was talking with them. 
 
 " Injuns ! " exclaimed George. " Bet they're Del- 
 a wares ! " 
 
 "That's right," agreed Terry. "Hope General 
 Jackson's with 'em." 
 
 " That means something to eat," declared Harry. 
 "We'd better be on hand. The bee-tree will wait 
 but maybe those callers won't." 
 
 He went leaping across the creek on a series of step- 
 ping-stones, in a short-cut, and they all hastened for 
 the cabin. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HUNTING WITH THE DELA WARES 
 
 THE Delawares they were three of them : General 
 Jackson, and Black Beaver the hunter, and another. 
 Their ponies were standing with hide ropes dragging, 
 to catch them by should they wander, and the Indians 
 themselves, draped in buffalo robes, had squatted in 
 a half circle, at the cabin door, while Terry's mother, 
 considerably flustrated, was trying to talk with them. 
 She acted much relieved, as if glad to have help, when 
 Harry and George and Terry arrived. 
 
 General Jackson rose, and gravely extended his 
 hand. 
 
 " How-do ? " he greeted, to Terry. He shook hands 
 all around, and so did the two others. 
 
 " Bring 'um," vouchsafed General Jackson, holding 
 out to Terry the necklace the necklace of the panther 
 claws sewed into a strip of deer hide. " Wear 'um. 
 Heap hunter." 
 
 "Is that yours?" exclaimed George. "Jitniny! 
 Look at it! Panther claws." 
 
 " I guess so," answered Terry, now flustrated, him- 
 self. "But I don't know. Is it?" he asked, doubt- 
 fully, of General Jackson. " Mine ? How much ? " 
 
 "Um," grunted General Jackson. "Keep. Kill 
 'urn panther, wear 'um claws." 
 
 174 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 175 
 
 " Thanks ; heap thanks," responded Terry. He 
 slipped the necklace over his head (for the circle was 
 fully large enough) and it hung low on his chest. The 
 points of the sharp claws, in a row like a fringe, curv- 
 ing in against his shirt, threatened to scratch through, 
 but not for the world would he have told anybody. 
 
 " That's certainly a fine piece of work," praised 
 Harry. "Wonder how they stitched those claws in, 
 just at the ends, that way." 
 
 " Squaw," grunted General Jackson. " Now go 'urn 
 hunt," he said, to Terry. " Want 'urn go? " 
 
 A hunt! General Jackson was armed with a good 
 rifle, so was Black Beaver, and the third Indian had 
 a smooth-bore musket or yager. They looked as if 
 they were ready to start. 
 
 "Where?" asked Terry, eagerly. 
 
 General Jackson swung his arm in gesture to the 
 west. 
 
 " Kill 'um deers, kill 'urn buffs, kill 'urn heap meat. 
 Me go, Black Beaver he go, John Bushman (and he in- 
 dicated the third Delaware, who seemed to be only a 
 little younger than Black Beaver), he go. You go? 
 Odder boy, he go?" 
 
 " I'd like to," asserted George, his black eyes spark- 
 ling. His face fell. " But I don't believe I can. Got 
 to take some butter to town. And take Virgie, too. 
 I promised her." 
 
 " Can I go, ma ? Mother, can I go ? " appealed 
 Terry. " I'll get us some meat : deer, buffalo, heap 
 meat, General Jackson says ! " 
 
 " Why," faltered his mother. " There's so much 
 
176 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 work, Terry. I don't see how we can spare you. I 
 thought you and Harry were to build fences." 
 
 " We can spare him," put in Harry. " That is, I 
 can if you can. The fences can wait till fall. I doubt 
 if we could get at them before, anyway. I can manage 
 the rest of the work. It's time he had a few days off, 
 don't you think?" 
 
 Good for Harry! 
 
 " How long will you be gone ? " asked Terry's 
 mother, of General Jackson and she still was a little 
 dubious. 
 
 " Mebbe two day, mebbe three day. Kill 'urn meat. 
 Come back. No fear." 
 
 " We's 'speck 'um three day, mebbe," spoke John 
 Bushman, in guttural tone. " Boy no hurt." 
 
 " But supposing you meet wild Indians ! " gasped 
 Terry's mother. 
 
 " Kill 'urn. Take scalp," grunted John Bushman. 
 " We no 'fraid. One Delaware he whip ten Cheyenne ; 
 Kiowa too. Bah!" 
 
 " Oh! " gasped Terry's mother. 
 
 "I'll bring meat and scalps both, ma," cheered 
 Terry. " I'll take dad's gun and the colt." 
 
 " Fetch 'um dog," ordered General Jackson, point- 
 ing at Shep. " Delaware scalp 'um Cheyenne ; dog 
 bite 'um Kiowa. Huh!" 
 
 " But we'll need Shep to protect us here," retorted 
 Terry's mother. " When do you start ? " 
 
 Hurrah! She was yielding. 
 
 " Start 'um now." 
 
 " Not on Sunday," declared Terry's mother, firmly. 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 177 
 
 "White boys do not hunt on Sunday. They rest; no 
 play, little work. Understand ? He can go to-morrow, 
 but not to-day." 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted General Jackson. " Clistchun 
 (by which he meant Christian, evidently) . White man 
 make medicine one day, 'um last he six day. Injun 
 make medicine every day." 
 
 He and the two other Delawares talked together 
 briefly, in their own tongue. 
 
 " All right," said General Jackson. " Mebbe stay. 
 Black Beaver, he say mebbe stay, mebbe big eat 'um, 
 hunt to-morrow. White boy make medicine to-day for 
 hunt; to-morrow go, kill 'urn heap deers, heap buffs. 
 Huh!" 
 
 " Big eats, remember, Mother Richards," laughed 
 Harry. " That means sugared coffee for supper." 
 
 " I'll do the best I can," she promised. " But you 
 boys can't have any. Once in a while for us is all 
 we can afford." 
 
 "I'd rather have milk, anyway; wouldn't you?" 
 asserted George, to Terry. 
 
 " Soon as we get a cow." 
 
 " You can bring a buffalo home, and milk it ! Wish 
 I was going." 
 
 " I'll tell you all about it," engaged Terry, excited. 
 " Next time we'll both go. We can go off by our- 
 selves, when I've learned how. We found a bee tree, 
 mother! Down in the timber. A great big tree, 
 chock full of honey. Don't you cut it down till I come 
 back, Harry; will you? " 
 
 " Not a twig. The longer we wait the more honey 
 
178 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 there'll be. The bees will keep piling it in, all summer; 
 see?" 
 
 "Wonder if I've got enough powder and shot," 
 planned Terry, busily. " I can ride the colt, can't I. 
 Heap colt," he informed, to General Jackson. " Run 
 fast, catch 'um buffalo; bang! " 
 
 " Good," grunted General Jackson, gravely. 
 
 "Don't be in a hurry, now, Terry," cautioned his 
 mother. " It's still Sunday, you know." 
 
 " After the sun sets I can look at the gun, can't I ? " 
 pleaded Terry. 
 
 " Perhaps," she smiled. 
 
 Presently George was obliged to leave, to do his 
 chores at home. He went regretfully, but he was 
 certain that he'd have to take the butter down to 
 Manhattan, instead of going hunting. 
 
 The three Delawares had again squatted solemnly in 
 a row against the side of the cabin, their robes pulled 
 up around their necks, and apparently were expecting 
 the " big eat 'um." 
 
 After supping heartily on biscuits and coffee with 
 plenty of sugar in it, the Delawares slept outside, 
 rolled in their buffalo robes. Terry turned in early, 
 himself, to be ready for an early start in the morning. 
 He was on his colt, at sun-up, equipped with a blanket, 
 and shot-gun and powder-flask and a pouch of buck- 
 shot, prepared to ride, when General Jackson grunted : 
 
 "Huh! Take 'um dog." 
 
 "He's to stay here," answered Terry. "They'll 
 need him. Big watch 'um ; see ? " 
 
 " Take 'um dog," insisted General Jackson. " Ketch 
 'um buff, bite 'um Injun. Heap dog Humph ! " 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 179 
 
 " Shall I ? " queried Terry, of his mother and Harry, 
 who were standing by to wish good luck. 
 
 " It looks as though you'd have to, dear," and she 
 laughed a little ruefully. " Anyway, I'll feel safer 
 about you if Shep's along. And he wants to go." 
 
 " Come on, Shep, old boy," invited Terry ; and at 
 the summons Shep, who had been gazing with ears 
 pricked, sprang forward, barking and capering. He'd 
 enjoy a hunt as much as the rest. In fact, he didn't 
 care where he was going, if only he went. 
 
 Black Beaver led off. General Jackson followed, 
 Terry rode next, and John Bushman brought up the 
 rear. Shep raced from side to side, routing out the 
 jack-rabbits and charging the prairie dogs. His hunt- 
 ing began at once. 
 
 The Delawares kept their buffalo robes high around 
 their necks, and the single file proceeded at a smart 
 trot, with never a word spoken. Almost straight west 
 proceeded Black Beaver, for the ridge of hills dividing 
 the Valley of the Blue from the Valley of the Republi- 
 can. They crossed the rolling prairie, fresh and dewy, 
 covered with tall grasses and flowering shrubs and 
 plants; startled several bands of antelope into swift, 
 graceful flight after a moment of staring with banded 
 heads uplifted ; and threading shallow draws and climb- 
 ing in and out of gullies climbed the hither slope of the 
 hills. 
 
 Black Beaver seemed to know just where he was 
 going, and he also seemed in a hurry to get there. He 
 did not halt once, not even to kill an antelope. The 
 Indian ponies pressed forward at trot and occasionally 
 
i8o THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 at fast walk. Shep's tongue soon was hanging out, as 
 he loped beside Terry, but the colt proved to be as 
 good as the ponies, and Terry, with his panther claw 
 necklace bobbing on his chest, was determined to show 
 that he could ride as far as anybody. But the shot- 
 gun, across his lap, was getting heavy. 
 
 They topped the divide; the Valley of the Blue lay 
 behind and below. Terry thought he could see the 
 Stantons' place, but his own home was out of sight, 
 around a timbered shoulder of the hills. Next, the 
 Valley of the Republican unfolded, before and below, 
 with never a sign of a settlement in it. They had 
 struck it far above the settlements. At the lower end 
 were Fort Riley and ranches, but here there was noth- 
 ing except the open country, where buffalo roamed 
 and where the wild Indians like the Cheyennes and the 
 Sioux and the tame Indians like the Delawares and 
 Shawnees hunted. 
 
 Black Beaver halted for a survey. All halted, while 
 the horses puffed and nibbled at the herbage. Gut- 
 tural comments were exchanged. The Delawares had 
 dropped their robes around their waists, and were 
 riding in their calico shirts. 
 
 General Jackson pointed. 
 
 " Buffs," he said. " Heap buffs." 
 
 Down in the valley, fringed through the middle by 
 the timber of the Republican River, and dotted with 
 other timber, was a black mass, on the right. It looked 
 like goose-berry bushes, or other bushes. Didn't move, 
 did it? And those were buffalo, had said General 
 Jackson ! What a lot of them, then covering several 
 acres! Thousands of buffalo, feeding! 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 181 
 
 " Heap buffs," agreed Terry, breathing hard. Now 
 what charge them? 
 
 " Ant'lopes," grunted General Jackson, with another 
 gesture, toward a smaller blotch, of dark flecked with 
 white, like a carpet. Even as they gazed, the carpet 
 billowed and moved. The antelope were in flight. 
 They were uneasy creatures, very panicky, and at light- 
 ing speed they swept along, until they stopped and 
 grazed again. 
 
 " Heap antelopes," agreed Terry. 
 
 "Deers; mebbe elks," grunted General Jackson, in- 
 dicating the valley. " No hunt now. Eat." 
 
 Black Beaver led off again, and they descended, in 
 single file, winding down through timber and parks, 
 while the sun sank lower in their faces ; and suddenly, 
 at the foot of the slope, they rode right into a camp. 
 It was a camp of more Delawares, located beside a 
 stream, in a little basin or park amidst the trees. There 
 were a number of brush lean-tos, ponies grazing, two 
 fires smouldering, with pots hanging above them, three 
 squaws, in calico wrappers, two men, several children, 
 and half a dozen dogs who made a rush, barking, at 
 Shep. Shep bristled and stood his ground (he had 
 met Indian dogs before, and they were big bluffers) ; 
 and the dogs decided to wait. The Indian women threw 
 sticks at them, until they slunk off, still growling. 
 
 Amidst short choky greetings Terry's Delawares 
 slipped from their ponies, so Terry dismounted also 
 and glad enough was he to do it. The saddle had 
 grown very hot, and hard. The women came and 
 led the horses away, to turn them out to water and 
 
182 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 grass. Black Beaver and John Bushman squatted be- 
 side one of the pots, General Jackson beckoned Terry 
 to the other. The pots were bubbling and smelled de- 
 licious. The women came back, and with gourd spoons 
 ladled from the pots, to bark platters, and handed the 
 platters around. General Jackson began to eat with 
 his hunting-knife and his fingers, and Terry saw noth- 
 ing now to do but to do likewise. That was the Indian 
 way. So he speared and scraped with his knife, and 
 sucked his fingers. Wah ! Heap good ! 
 
 One of the women was Black Beaver's wife ; another 
 was John Bushman's wife; the other was the wife of 
 Jim Ned the man who sat with a blanket over his 
 head because, as Terry found out afterward, he was 
 part Negro and had short woolly hair which he tried 
 to hide. The other man was a Shawnee. He had short 
 straight black hair and a round dark face. The Del- 
 awares and the Shawnees lived together as brothers. 
 Fall Leaf wasn't here. 
 
 Judging by the pots, and by the bones, and by the 
 deer hides pegged out to dry, the camp already had 
 been hunting. But after the meal General Jackson 
 gave no indication of starting out; neither did any- 
 body else. They just lay around and " lazed." Terry 
 determined to ask no questions. With his panther neck- 
 lace, which entitled him to be ranked as a mighty 
 hunter himself, he felt that he could be as much Indian 
 as anybody. 
 
 The men stretched out and dozed; the dogs quit 
 growling and bristling, and slept; the children played 
 quiet games, except two babies who, wrapped up and 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 183 
 
 strapped to boards, were set against a couple of trees, 
 whence they stared with beady black eyes principally 
 at Terry, and Shep. And the women worked. 
 
 How they did work ! Mrs. John Bushman and Mrs. 
 Jim Ned, on their hands and knees, scraped and scraped 
 at a deer hide each, using bone scrapers with which to 
 remove the flesh. Occasionally one or the other grunted 
 a sentence, but they did not talk often; they were too 
 busy. Mrs. Black Beaver hustled to the creek, toiled 
 back with a kettle of water, put it on the fire, and seiz- 
 ing a hatchet actually began to chop wood. Terry 
 debated whether he ought not to help ; but none of the 
 men took any notice, so he did not dare. 
 
 Next Mrs. Black Beaver began to cut meat into 
 pieces and when a baby cried she gave it a strip of 
 gristle to suck. The pieces of meat were tossed into 
 the kettle. The dogs got the scraps Shep the most. 
 
 In a couple of hours Black Beaver rose, looked at the 
 low sun, and said something. General Jackson stood 
 up. The other men roused. 
 
 " Now little hunt," informed General Jackson, to 
 Terry. " Kill 'urn deers. Deers sleep, Injuns sleep. 
 Pret* soon deers get up, eat, drink; Injuns get up, kill 
 
 'urn/' 
 
 " Buffalo, too? " asked Terry, expectant. 
 
 " Buffs to-morrow. Ketch 'urn deers. Get hoss. 
 Come." And as he turned away he added : " Tie up 
 dog. No good for deers." 
 
 The Delaware men (including the Shawnee) were 
 saddling their horses, and Terry hurried to the colt. 
 He saddled in a jiffy, and tied Shep to a tree, and was 
 
184 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 ready. General Jackson beckoned to him, so they rode 
 off together. Shep, much disappointed, whined after. 
 The squaws kept right on working. Hunting was no 
 pleasure for them. 
 
 General Jackson led at an amble through seme tim- 
 ber, and struck down a grassy draw. Terry, close fol- 
 lowing, alertly peered and listened, prepared to see a 
 deer at any moment. It looked like a good deer place. 
 He did hear one or at least some noise that sounded 
 like one ; but General Jackson never paused. They rode 
 for half an hour, ever getting farther from camp, and 
 Terry was lost completely, when General Jackson 
 reined in his pony and swept a keen glance around. 
 
 " Deers here," he said. " Mebbe ketch 'urn. Get 
 off, tie pony." 
 
 Before extended a meadow, rich with grass and 
 flowers, and held in the bend of a creek. The timber 
 skirted it on all sides. General Jackson moved his 
 pony back deeper among the trees and tied him ; Ernest 
 did the same with the colt. 
 
 " Now we go t'odder side," explained General Jack- 
 son. " Wind bad, dis side. Mudder deer, he hide fawn 
 in brush, mebbe so sleep, mebbe so eat, mebbe so drink. 
 Delaware make noise like fawn, mudder he run out, 
 Delaware shoot 'urn. Huh ! " 
 
 With General Jackson treading noiselessly on moc- 
 casinned soles, and Terry trudging breathlessly on tip- 
 toe, they made half circuit of the meadow, until the 
 General reached what evidently he judged was a good 
 spot. He composedly sank down behind a clump of 
 brush, motioned to Terry to sit beside him; and rest- 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 185 
 
 ing his rifle across his knees extracted from the bosom 
 of his shirt what appeared to be a short joint of cane. 
 
 " Make 'urn fawn noise, ketch 'um doe," he re- 
 marked, to Terry. 
 
 He put the piece of cane to his lips, and blew through 
 it and it must have had a reed tongue in it, like the 
 reed of a horn, for it gave out a funny squawk. 
 Sounded like a lamb bleat, only it was thinnner and 
 squeakier. 
 
 " Watch for mudder, come out, think he hear fawn 
 calling," explained General Jackson, pausing. " When 
 come close, shoot 'um." 
 
 He continued to bleat. The meadow, before, was 
 quiet and sunny; the stream rippled, and the sun cast 
 long shadows. The bleat of the reeded cane shrilled 
 insistent. Terry watched right and left. 
 
 With movement almost imperceptible General Jack- 
 son's elbow nudged Terry's. A deer? Terry's eyes 
 roved hither, thither and he saw it, on the edge of 
 the timber, to the left : a deer, standing there, head up, 
 facing them. 
 
 General Jackson's bleating changed its notes grew 
 shriller, kind of imploring; and while he played away, 
 out came the deer. It was a doe a mother doe. Ears 
 pricked, nostrils wide, stepping high and alarmed, 
 straight she trotted into the meadow and made right 
 for them. She halted, she advanced again, seeking 
 her baby. What a beautiful thing she was ! She had 
 arrived so near that Terry could see her nostrils twitch, 
 as she sniffed, and the liquid brown of her large soft 
 eyes. 
 
186 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 General Jackson's elbow nudged him again, as com- 
 mand to shoot. But how could anybody shoot a mother 
 deer, this way, when she was coming to protect her 
 baby? Evidently she didn't want to come; only, she 
 had to and she suspected a trap. Terry, all a-tremble, 
 didn't raise his gun. It was a dead shot ; why, he could 
 have blown her head off the way he blew off the head 
 of the panther but somehow, he simply could not 
 shoot her, as she stood there, listening, sniffing, staring 
 right at them, fearing for herself but fearing more for 
 her baby. 
 
 In his impatience General Jackson must have uttered 
 a false note, or else the breeze shifted ; for on a sudden, 
 with a snort the mother whirled and at a bound was 
 away, into the timber. Quick though she was, General 
 Jackson was almost as quick; his rifle leaped to his 
 shoulder "Bang!" 
 
 Up he sprang, and forward he ran, Terry bolting 
 excitedly after. 
 
 " Did you hit her ? Did you hit her ? " 
 
 General Jackson was searching on the leaves and 
 grasses, at the spot where the mother had vanished. 
 He was not in good humor. 
 
 " Why you no shoot 'um ? " he demanded, angrily. 
 " Me call 'um, you shoot 'um. Why no? " 
 
 " I couldn't it didn't seem fair," explained Terry. 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted General Jackson. " Heap fool. 
 Deer gone now." And he strode for the horses. 
 
 So he hadn't hit her, and Terry was glad. For sup- 
 posing they had killed her, even on the run; then what 
 would have became of the little fawn ? 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 187 
 
 The General grumpily mounted his pony, Terry, 
 feeling that he was in disfavor, mounted the colt, and 
 they rode in a new direction. The Delaware acted as if 
 on business bent; his hunting instincts were now all 
 aroused, and he was bound to have a deer. A gun-shot 
 echoed faintly through the timber, and he grunted 
 again. 
 
 " Black Beaver," he said. " Huh! Get 'urn deer." 
 
 From each little rise he cautiously searched before, 
 ere continuing; and when he struck a gully he rode 
 along the edge, and scanned the bottom and the op- 
 posite side. 
 
 They were in the Valley of the Republican, and were 
 circuiting the borders of a timber island a patch 
 broken away from the hills, as though it had slipped 
 when he stopped again, with hand raised to warn Terry. 
 
 " Deers," he said. " Plenty deers. Sleep 'urn day, 
 feed 'um now." 
 
 Terry peered around the General. Before, beyond 
 the trees, or where the trees thinned to scattered oaks 
 and elms and hickories ere ceasing entirely, were at 
 least twenty deer, cropping the grass and switching 
 their short tails occasionally lifting their heads and 
 surveying for danger. They were four or five hun- 
 dred yards distant, but very plain in the last rays of 
 the setting sun. Several fawns were gamboling like 
 lambs. It was a pretty sight and General Jackson's 
 nostrils widened eagerly. He turned his cheek, seeking 
 the breeze ; it wafted quartering. He slipped from his 
 horse. 
 
 " Wait 'um," he bade, to Terry. " Me shoot 'um. 
 
i88 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 No fool dis time. Mebbe run, you shoot 'um." And he 
 was gone, on silent foot, passing like a shadow through 
 the timber, to make a circuit. 
 
 Terry sat, scarcely daring to move. The deer fed, 
 all unconscious that somebody was stalking them. 
 There was one big deer, among a bunch grazing by 
 themselves. These were the bucks, probably ; for most 
 of the fawns were not yet weaned, and they and their 
 mothers stayed together. Besides, as everybody knew, 
 the bucks were growing new horns and were apt to 
 be rather cross, until the horns hardened. 
 
 Look ! There was General Jackson, off yonder, just 
 emerging to the edge of the timber. He was bending 
 low, and fairly slinking, from trunk to trunk, and shrub 
 to shrub; but he moved swiftly and surely. He was 
 almost close enough wasn't he ? Watch ! He was on 
 his knees, crouching, stationary, and leveling his rifle. 
 
 Terry dismounted in a jiffy. The deer were liable 
 to come this way, up the draw, running with the breeze. 
 Now every deer had raised its head, alarmed and 
 General Jackson's rifle rang smartly. Instantly the 
 whole herd were in full flight, scouring up the draw. 
 Terry sprang forward, to the farthest tree that he could 
 reach he barely had time, for they were coming, the 
 big fellow leading, the little fawns gallantly forging 
 in the rear. 
 
 They suddenly swerved in, as if panic stricken by 
 another enemy and as they careered past, Terry's gun 
 leaped of itself to his shoulder, he took quick aim just 
 ahead of the leader, and pulled both triggers. As he 
 went sprawling, backward, he saw the big fellow plunge 
 
HUNTING WITH THE DELAWARES 189 
 
 on his nose, roll over and over ; and when Terry hastily 
 rose, the herd had streamed on with flash of white tails, 
 but the big fellow was lying in a mass of brown and 
 red. 
 
 Out ran Terry, wildly jubilant and from op- 
 posite rode down a horseman. 
 
 The deer was stone dead, riddled by the buckshot. 
 He was a buck, his horns still in the velvet and he was 
 a big one. 
 
 " Humph ! Good ! Heap good," praised the horse- 
 man, to Terry. " Shoot 'urn on run." 
 
 He was Black Beaver, and it was he who had made 
 the herd swerve. He bore behind his saddle another 
 carcass. Terry straightened up proudly. Black Beaver 
 dismounted, and with his hunting knife opened the 
 dead deer's throat, to let out the blood. Terry knew 
 this ought to be done, but he hated to do it himself. 
 
 " General Jackson get 'urn 'nodder," said Black 
 Beaver. " Now bring out hoss, put 'um on. Then go 
 get odder." 
 
 Yes, in the open, where the deer had been feeding, 
 General Jackson was busy. Terry led out his colt, and 
 held him while Black Beaver lifted the limp body across 
 the haunches, and with the hide rope tied the legs to- 
 gether, underneath ; drawing them forward with a half 
 hitch or two, throwing a couple of wrappings around 
 the body also. 
 
 The colt did not fancy this, but stood fast. Then 
 they rode with General Jackson's pony down to his 
 owner, and tied that deer on, also. 
 
 " Huh ! White boy shoot 'um two time, one deer," 
 
I 9 o THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 criticized General Jackson, as he climbed into his 
 saddle; but he did not speak unkindly, this time, and 
 Terry felt pretty well satisfied with himself. 
 
 So, bearing a deer apiece, they rode back, in the 
 twilight, to camp, and arrived at dusk. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 
 
 "Now sleep. Buffs to-morrow," were the last 
 words, to-night, of General Jackson, indicating that it 
 was time to turn in. 
 
 The deer hunt had been a great success, evidently. 
 Jim Ned, John Bushman, the Shawnee everybody had 
 returned with pony laden. John Bushman had brought 
 in two deer, and the Shawnee an elk. All the carcasses 
 were dumped down, for the women, and the women 
 had immediately set to work with their knives. They 
 worked by ruddy firelight, after darkness fell; deftly 
 removed the hides and heads, and proceeded to cut the 
 bones and meat apart as if they were determined not to 
 waste a morsel. They now and then tucked a piece 
 of the raw meat into their mouths, or passed a choice 
 bit to the children : yes, chewed the liver, uncooked 
 and Mrs. John Bushman, with a grin, offered a slice 
 of the liver, dipped in the gall, to Terry! When he 
 didn't take it, she ate it, herself. 
 
 But for those who wanted their meat cooked, the pots 
 were bubbling, and Terry filled himself so full that he, 
 like the men, could only lie back, comfortably, and 
 watch the squaws hack and haul at the deer. Shep, 
 who had been roundly glad to see his master again, 
 nodded over a bone between his paws, and presently, 
 
 191 
 
192 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 with a contented sigh, curled himself in a ball, for the 
 night. At General Jackson's suggestion, Terry was 
 willing to do the same, for his eyes had sticks in them, 
 and the flickering firelight, and the dark trees, and the 
 bending figures of the squaws, and even the stars above, 
 all blended together. 
 
 So he rolled himself up in his blanket on a buffalo 
 robe to which the General pointed, with his feet to the 
 fire and his head on his folded coat ; and when the rest 
 of the camp went to bed he did not know, but probably 
 it was very soon. 
 
 " Buffs to-morrow," had said General Jackson. That 
 meant a buffalo hunt. 
 
 The buffalo robe was soft and warm, the fire felt 
 good through the blanket, and as seemed to Terry he 
 hardly had snuggled, and closed his eyes so as to picture 
 out the mother deer, and the running deer, and the 
 way the big buck jumped and fell, and was saving the 
 buffalo hunt till the last, when, before he had got to the 
 coming buffalo hunt, he was aroused by the soft shuffle 
 of the squaws' feet, and the crackle of the fires. 
 
 It was morning, already. The sky above was pink 
 with sunrise, the trees were plainly outlined, and the 
 squaws were preparing breakfast. Shep still slumbered, 
 but the colt and the other horses grazed, the children 
 were running about. Black Beaver emerged, yawning, 
 from one of the brush lean-tos, and stalked down to 
 the creek, where scarcely out of sight he took a bath; 
 and as the camp was astir, Terry piled out, to do as the 
 other Indian men did, and take a bath also. 
 
 He untied Shep, and they went together Shep 
 
MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 193 
 
 heartily glad to stretch his legs, but limiting his own 
 bath to a drink. After that he nosed about, had a little 
 fight, over a bone ; seized the bone and carried it to his 
 tree and gnawed it. A dog who had tackled a panther 
 was equal to getting a bone for himself. 
 
 The deer meat was being strung in strips, on long 
 cords, from tree to tree, to dry in the open air ; but by 
 the way that chunks were popped into those pots and 
 fished out again, to disappear, a hunt would be required 
 every day! Such an appetite as Terry himself had, 
 after his cold bath ; and all the men ate as if they did 
 not expect to eat again for a long time. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Black Beaver rose, 
 mounted his pony, and rode away. 
 
 " Finds buffs," informed General Jackson, to Terry; 
 and the squaws, having finished their household tasks, 
 as if in much anticipation began to grind the edges of 
 their butcher knives, with flat stones. 
 
 In about an hour and a half Black Beaver returned. 
 He spoke only a few sentences, motioning westward 
 with his arm, but they were enough. Up sprang the 
 Delaware men. The women, who had listened atten- 
 tively, hustled to collect various belongings. It looked 
 as though the whole camp was to be moved. How- 
 ever, Black Beaver must have brought good news, for 
 every face was aglow. 
 
 " Heap buffs. Now ketch 'urn," announced General 
 Jackson. " Get pony. Come." 
 
 Hunting buffalo was a different matter from hunting 
 deer. Terry was about to saddle the colt, when General 
 Jackson interrupted. 
 
194 
 
 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " No good. No take 'um saddle. Ride pony, Injun 
 way. Then fall off, no hurt." 
 
 So? Terry rather doubtfully eyed the contraption 
 assigned to him. It was only a buffalo hide pad, to be 
 strapped upon the colt's back. Of course, he had ridden 
 bareback, many a time. This was but little better. 
 However, all the ponies were similarly equipped, and 
 the Delawares had even discarded the bridles, substitut- 
 ing therefor single hide thongs looped at one end 
 around the ponies' lower jaws. The pad was deemed 
 safer probably because it had no stirrups, to catch one's 
 foot if one fell off; but Terry decided that the colt 
 might not stand for the thong. Accordingly he retained 
 his bridle, to which there were no objections. 
 
 Black Beaver and General Jackson and the other 
 Delawares (including the Shawnee) had stripped them- 
 selves, also, quite to the skin. They were naked save 
 for a cloth wrapping about their thighs, and a band 
 of red flannel or of calico about their forehead and 
 all were armed with bows and quivers, except John 
 Bushman, who had his smooth-bore musket, and the 
 Shawnee, who carried a long lance. 
 
 " No got 'um bow ? " queried the General. " Shoot 
 'um arrow fast, kill 'um heap more buffs." 
 
 " Aw, I can't shoot with bow and arrow not to hit 
 anything," confessed Terry. " I'll have to take my gun. 
 Heap gun." 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted General Jackson. " Kill 'um 
 deer; mebbe kill 'um buff. No can tell. Try. Take 
 'urn dog, ketch 'um calf." And he vaulted easily 
 aboard his pony. Black Beaver led out. The squaws 
 surely were breaking camp. 
 
MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 195 
 
 Terry hastily scrambled, gun in hand, upon his saddle 
 pad, and with word to the joyous Shep joined the hunt. 
 At a canter the little cavalcade, in single file, wound 
 through the swales skirting the base of the hills and the 
 edge of the broad valley. The Delawares, their sinewy 
 bare legs pressed tight against their ponies' sides, bows 
 in hand and bristling quivers slung high upon their 
 backs, the Shawnee's lance extending aloft and John 
 Bushman's yager across his knees, every man sitting 
 like a bronze centaur, made a gallant sight. Terry's 
 colt had a springy amble; and pressing his legs tight 
 he soon found that he did not much miss the stirrups. 
 This was great fun, riding like the Indians rode. 
 
 From the base of the hills they obliqued westward 
 into the valley by way of a shallow draw which hid 
 them from the prairie on either side. Several bunches 
 of antelope burst into flight, and tore away on either 
 hand, but nobody paid any attention to them, except 
 that General Jackson, immediately before Terry, 
 grunted disapproval. Maybe he was afraid that they 
 would scare the buffalo. 
 
 Where were the buffalo? Black Beaver had occa- 
 sionally wet his finger and held it up, testing the breeze. 
 Presently he lifted his hand, as signal to halt. He dis- 
 mounted. Everybody dismounted. They followed 
 Black Beaver up the slope of the draw, on the left ; as 
 they climbed, they crouched ; Terry, breathless with ex- 
 citement, crouched likewise and Shep, at his heels, 
 panting, crouched also. 
 
 The breeze wafted almost in their faces. Black 
 Beaver paused, and tossed into the air a fragment of 
 
196 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 dried grass. It fell to rearward. Yes, the breeze was 
 all right. Now, as they neared the low crest of the 
 rolling ground, Terry became conscious of a dull, con- 
 fused rumble, similar to distant thunder. On hands and 
 knees they crept to the top, and peered over. Borne on 
 the breeze, the murmur suddenly swelled louder, deep 
 and thunderous; and see, there were the buffalo, ap- 
 parently thousands of them, turning the prairie black 
 not a quarter of a mile before. Bulls roared, cows 
 blared, calves were bounding here and there, as the 
 great herd slowly moved, grazing as they went. 
 
 After the survey, heads were cautiously withdrawn ; 
 and the Delawares held a short confab. Black Beaver 
 spoke, and gestured. Then they all retired down the 
 slope, to the ponies. They mounted. Black Beaver 
 and Jim Ned and the Shawnee promptly rode on ; Gen- 
 eral Jackson and John Bushman turned back, and Terry 
 of course stuck close behind them Shep docilly in his 
 wake, as if aware that he must be careful. 
 
 At a trot they branched off into another low place, 
 and pursued it until it opened into the prairie and now, 
 before on their right, and closer, was exposed a portion 
 of the herd. Here the General and Terry sat motion- 
 less, while John Bushman rode aside, a little higher, to 
 see more. 
 
 The nostrils of General Jackson expanded, his face 
 was firmly set, once he twitched at the feathered ends 
 of his arrows in the quiver, as though to feel that the 
 arrows were loose and he examined his bow. His 
 pony, and the other horses, pricked forward their ears. 
 They, too, knew. Evidently something was about to 
 
MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 197 
 
 happen with a rush. Under him, Terry felt his pony 
 trembling. So they waited, while the buffalo rumbled, 
 and the edge of the herd in sight grazed and fought 
 and pawed and rolled. 
 
 John Bushman lifted his hand. Instantly General 
 Jackson clapped heels against his pony, and with a 
 single guttural " Come ! " launched into full speed. At 
 full speed John Bushman was charging, in dead run. 
 Terry's colt needed no word, for he, also, had started 
 with such a jump that his rider narrowly escaped falling 
 off backward. 
 
 Terry clung hard. In a twinkling they were out of 
 their ambush, and the whole vast herd lay spread before 
 them. Across, almost opposite, straight at the fore 
 flank of the herd three specks were scouring over the 
 short grass. They were Black Beaver and Jim Ned 
 and the Shawnee, who had made a half circuit. 
 
 For a moment or two the buffalo appeared not to 
 sense that they were being attacked. They seemed not 
 to see ! What stupid animals far less keen than deer 
 and antelope. Faster dashed onward General Jackson 
 and John Bushman, lashing their ponies with the quirts 
 or braided hide whips hanging from their wrists, and 
 faster spurted Terry, trying to overtake. 
 
 Suddenly up rose the head of a big bull, who on the 
 edge of the herd was grazing, facing this way. For a 
 brief instant he roundly stared, as if scarce believing 
 his eyes. He whirled on the pivot of his four hoofs 
 up rose other heads, along the edge and with 
 simultaneous movement like the breaking loose of an 
 
198 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 avalanche on a mountain-side the herd, whether seeing 
 or not seeing, had stampeded into headlong flight. 
 
 The ground fairly shook to the pounding of those 
 hoofs under the billowy flow of the myriad brown 
 backs rolling densely. Obliquely athwart the valley 
 they poured, running up wind, as buffalo usually did, 
 so as to smell for danger before. 
 
 But their flight was too late. Clinging with both 
 legs and one hand, and at the dead run bounced hardly 
 at all on his saddle pad, Terry saw John Bushman 
 reach the herd first John's pony swerved in, close on 
 the left of a lumbering monster tore on, almost within 
 arm's length John dropped the barrel of his gun across 
 his knees didn't put the butt to his shoulder, but pulled 
 trigger; and to the puff of smoke the buffalo jumped 
 painfully, staggered, slackened, and fell behind while 
 John Bushman, from his powder horn emptying a dash 
 of powder into the muzzle and spitting a bullet from his 
 mouth in after, passed on to the next nearest buffalo. 
 
 With the corner of his eyes Ernest noted the 
 wounded buffalo drop to his knees, and sway. But 
 now, with rapid motion, General Jackson had plucked 
 from the quiver atop his left shoulder an arrow had 
 fitted it like lightning to his bow and fairly brushing 
 past a laboring cow drew bow loosed it whang! 
 (Ernest heard the string hum) and the cow also 
 drifted aside. Under her fore leg just the end feathers 
 of the arrow showed. 
 
 General Jackson plucked another arrow he scarcely 
 slackened, but drew bow again whang! And 
 " Boom ! " spoke John Bushman's musket. Far yonder, 
 
MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 199 
 
 Black Beaver and Jim Ned were plying their bows, 
 while the Shawnee evidently was thrusting with his 
 lance. 
 
 So fiercely rode the General and John Bushman 
 that strive as Terry might, hammering his colt with his 
 heels and shouting " G'lang ! G'lang with you ! " he 
 could not overtake them. As for Shep, he was toiling 
 well to rearward ; the pace had been too much for him. 
 But how those Indians did ride ! Just sat, near naked, 
 on their near naked ponies, let the bridle thongs sway 
 loose, and shot and shot General Jackson apparently 
 loosing three arrows to one load by John Bushman. 
 And how those huge buffalo could run! They didn't 
 looked as though they were running fast ; they simply 
 ploughed along, with a curious plunging up and down 
 movement, tails high and heads low ; but they covered 
 the ground at an amazing speed. 
 
 Amidst the rumble, and the reek of dust and hot 
 breaths, in the wake of the herd's rear flank pressed 
 Terry. The herd had begun to straggle. The old bulls 
 and cows and the cows with calves were falling behind ; 
 and every now and then there was the wounded, and 
 the dying. 
 
 Terry had not been enabled to fire a shot. The colt 
 was less anxious than he to get into close quarters. 
 But judging by the methods of John Bushman, to shoot 
 a buffalo one must go right beside him. Before, on 
 Terry's left, lumbered an enormous bull, the largest 
 buffalo anywhere near. He occupied a place by him- 
 self, among the yellow little calves and the straining 
 mothers. Terry hauled on the colt's bit, and with re- 
 
200 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 peated hammerings and " G'lang's ! " edged in for him. 
 The colt tossed his head and snorted rebelliously, but 
 he obeyed, entering into the spirit of the chase. On 
 lumbered the bull, nearer pressed Terry, inch by inch. 
 He could hear the bull's panting wheeze as the breath 
 whistled through his nostrils could see his red tongue 
 hanging out his eyes bulging through his tangled fore- 
 lock the dust on his ridiculously scant rump and the 
 matted brown hair dangling from his burly shoulders, 
 for this was still shedding time with buffalo. 
 
 The colt was almost abreast of him, and Terry 
 shifted his gun, to try to level it the way John Bushman 
 had leveled the musket, when like a flash the bull 
 whirled, head down, and bolted for the colt. With a 
 prodigious leap, around whirled the colt also and 
 small wonder, for that bull looked like a gigantic lion. 
 Who would have guessed that so large an animal 
 could be so quick on his feet? 
 
 Terry almost lost his gun; and worse, he almost 
 lost his seat. But he stuck, with one leg and one arm, 
 while away raced the colt, in a panic, until Terry man- 
 aged to haul him in. The bull had not chased ; he had 
 merely whirled, as a threat, and then had lumbered on 
 again. 
 
 After him pelted Terry, bound to have him or at 
 least to teach him a lesson upon respect for a boy wear- 
 ing a panther claw necklace ; drew up beside him, inch 
 by inch, and was just about to swing the gun at him 
 and blaze away, regardless, when again, as quick as a 
 cat, around whirled the big bull, and charged. His horn 
 actually grazed the colt's flank "Bang!" exploded 
 
MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 201 
 
 the gun and well-nigh flew out of Terry's astonished 
 hands and away bolted the frightened colt. 
 
 This time the bull pursued for a short distance, until 
 he stopped, pawed and rumbled, a moment, in indignant 
 fashion, throwing the sod high and dripping froth down 
 his beard and lolling red tongue ; and then made after 
 the herd. 
 
 He looked so large and sort of helpless, and so tired, 
 that Terry laughed. 
 
 " Go on," he called. " I don't want you." 
 
 And neither did the colt. 
 
 Terry sat, calming the winded colt and taking breath 
 himself. Before, the Delawares were still darting in 
 and out, in their attacks. Fragments had been broken 
 off from the main herd. Away at the front Black 
 Beaver was chasing a single buffalo across the prairie ; 
 and yonder was General Jackson having a set-to with 
 another big bull. The bull charged, General Jackson 
 fled, his head over his shoulder the bull turned back, 
 and General Jackson charged. Presently down sank 
 the bull ; and Black Beaver had despatched his animal, 
 also. Every Indian was busy. 
 
 Here the tail of the herd had dwindled out to the 
 smallest yellow calves, and the weakest mothers, and 
 several stiffest old bulls, and two or three cripples all 
 toiling hard for safety. Terry really had not the heart 
 to try to kill any of these. In fact, it looked to him 
 as though enough buffalo had been killed ; the wake of 
 the herd was dotted with the great bodies, prone on 
 their sides or stomachs, where their legs had failed and 
 had dropped them. 
 
 He bethought himself of Shep. Ah, there he came, 
 
202 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 still behind, putting best foot forward as he bounded 
 like a shaggy ball. Good old Shep. 'Twas a shame 
 to leave him alone. Then, while waiting for him, 
 Terry saw something else as his eyes roved, watching 
 out for sights. Across the rear of the herd the very 
 rear, which had passed, he saw a cow ! Not a buffalo, 
 but a cow, a real cow! She was trying to keep up 
 with the herd, and a little calf was trying to keep up 
 with her, and they both were gradually being left. 
 
 She was a brindled cow, but the calf was a regular 
 buffalo calf, yellow and humpy like the others. 
 
 " Hoo-ray! " gasped Terry, scarce believing his eyes. 
 This was a prize, indeed better than a dozen buffalo. 
 With his exclamation he turned his colt's head, dug 
 in his heels, and galloped to cut the cow off. If he 
 could only catch her, and take her home, wouldn't his 
 mother and Harry cheer ! 
 
 It was a short race. The buffalo mothers had surged 
 along paying no attention to the calves, even to the 
 littlest ones ; but this real cow mother acted as if very 
 anxious that her calf should keep up. The colt, who 
 did not like the buffalo, was not at all afraid of a 
 brindled cow ; and shouting and urging, Terry sped in 
 ahead of her. 
 
 " Get out of here ! " he yelled, waving his arm. 
 
 She swerved, then down went her head (she had onlv 
 one horn) and she charged him as quickly as ever the 
 big bull had charged, but much more wickedly 
 
 The colt dodged ; she stood her ground, heaving and 
 rumbling, and the calf ran almost under her. Terry 
 rode in a circle, waving and shouting and trying to 
 
MORE LIVESTOCK FOR THE RANCH 203 
 
 drive her back. But she would not budge. She only 
 faced him, ready to charge again. 
 
 Yes, plain brindled cow she was rather gaunt, yet, 
 but with full bag and sturdy frame She had a broken 
 horn and an ear square-cropped (that is, cut square off 
 at the end) but she seemed to have no brand on her 
 weather-beaten hide. As for the calf, he looked to be 
 regular buffalo ; a woolly little chap, higher at the shoul- 
 ders than at the hips. 
 
 Now up came Shep, at last, his tongue flopping. 
 Terry welcomed him, for Shep knew all about cows. 
 
 "Sick, Shep! Take care of her! Sick, boy!" 
 ordered Terry, gladly. 
 
 At the cow's heels darted Shep, barking she whirled 
 on him charged a few steps, Shep sprang aside, was 
 at her heels again, nipping, and he kept her so busy that 
 she had no time to attend to either Terry or her calf. 
 
 The calf was left by himself. He blatted bewildered 
 and frightened, for an instant; and on a sudden, run- 
 ning a few steps, he dropped to his knees, thrust his 
 nose into a bunch of grass not more than six inches 
 high, closed his eyes tight, and there he stood, thinking 
 that he was hiding ! 
 
 It was such a funny thing to do that Terry had to 
 laugh. However, Shep was still engaged with the cow ; 
 and taking down his hide picket rope from where it 
 dangled, looped about his colt's neck, dismounting 
 and leading the colt by the bridle lines he stole for- 
 ward. 
 
 The calf thrust his nose in further and closed his eyes 
 tighter, and never bulged. Terry cautiously passed the 
 
204 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 end of the rope around the firm, warm fuzzy neck, 
 hastily knotted it, and started to back to the colt 
 when up straightened the calf, stared for an instant, 
 and before Terry could dodge had butted him sprawl- 
 ing. The colt jerked the lines from Terry's hands, the 
 gun flew wide, and when Terry hastily scrambled on 
 all fours until he had gained his feet he found himself 
 alone at one end of the rope and the calf, bawling and 
 tugging, at the other. 
 
 The mother heard ; she started, but Shep nipped her 
 and she changed ends again. The rascal of a woolly 
 calf bounded for Terry, with another sudden butt, and 
 Terry side-stepped none too soon. Shucks ! Watchful 
 of the calf, in vain he tried to grab the colt's bridle. 
 
 " Hold her, Shep ! " he encouraged. But he was not 
 very confident as to how things were going to turn out, 
 until a shrill whoop reached his ears, and he saw Gen- 
 eral Jackson galloping for him, across the rolling prai- 
 rie dotted with buffalo bodies. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 ON THE WAR TRAIL 
 
 THE attack on the buffalo herd had ended ; the black 
 mass of the frightened animals was streaming on in 
 the distance, several smaller detachments were fleeing 
 to right and left, and the Indians were riding back, over 
 the field, occasionally pausing beside a carcass. 
 
 General Jackson's quiver was empty of all except 
 two or three arrows ; his tired pony fairly dripped with 
 sweat. He halted, near, to survey Terry and the calf, 
 and Shep and the cow. His lips parted with a grin. 
 
 " How ketch 'urn ? " he called. " Calf ketch 'urn boy, 
 dog ketch 'um cow ; huh ? " 
 
 " Looks that way," admitted Terry, wary of the frac- 
 tious calf who stood straddly-legged but alert. " You 
 hold this calf till I ketch 'urn horse; will you? " 
 
 " Tie 'urn calf, kill 'urn cow," proposed General Jack- 
 son, reaching for an arrow. 
 
 " No ! " cried Terry. " Keep 'urn cow, keep 'urn calf ; 
 take 'um home." 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted General Jackson, relenting. 
 " Take whoa-haw to farm ; mudder she milk he." And 
 with sudden energy he charged the cow, flourishing 
 his bow. 
 
 205 
 
206 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 That was too much for the cow. Evidently she was 
 afraid of an Indian. Away she scampered, Shep at her 
 heels. Shep quit and lay down, to keep his eyes upon 
 her lest she try to return, and the General came back 
 to Terry. 
 
 Terry had been seeking something to which to tie 
 the calf's rope. The General impatiently dismounted, 
 dug a hole with his knife, tore loose a bunch of twigs 
 and grass, knotted the end of the rope about the bunch, 
 buried it and stamped the earth atop it. That was a 
 clever scheme. Terry himself could not budge the an- 
 chor. The calf seemed to have given up resistance, and 
 only blatted after his mother who from a safe dis- 
 tance gazed and answered. 
 
 " Calf stay, cow stay," grunted General Jackson, and 
 vaulted on his pony. " Kill 'urn buffs ? How many ? " 
 
 " Never killed a one," confessed Terry, picking up 
 his gun and seizing the bridle of the colt. " Couldn't. 
 Buff run, pony 'fraid, no shoot." 
 
 " Huh! " commented the General. " Delaware kill 
 plenty, white boy ketch 'um whoa-haw. Good. 
 
 Leaving the woolly calf securely tethered they rode 
 slowly forward, to join the other hunters. They passed 
 dead buffalo, some with gun-shot wounds, some with 
 one, two, and three arrows buried in them. 
 
 What was to be done with all these buffalo, anyway? 
 The question answered itself, for, un-noted during the 
 excitement, from the hills in the direction of the camp 
 had issued the Delaware women; bringing the horses 
 and children and dogs and all the other equipment they 
 were hastening to the field. With their knives they im- 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL 
 
 mediately set to work on the first carcasses that they 
 reached. 
 
 About midway of the field the hunters came together. 
 Black Beaver's quiver was entirely empty of fresh ar- 
 rows, but held two bloody ones that he must have pulled 
 out for re-use! Jim Ned's quiver was almost empty. 
 John Bushman was powder stained, and his left thigh 
 blistered where his hot gun-barrel had rested. The 
 lance of the Shawnee was red from point to end of 
 shaft. They all and ponies likewise were very tired, 
 but appeared satisfied. 
 
 So they sat down, resting and comparing notes. 
 
 Terry wandered about, examining things. Every 
 buffalo was pierced by arrow or lance or ball in practi- 
 cally the one spot low down just behind the fore 
 shoulder. The arrows were buried to their feathers 
 and now and then the arrow point had broken through 
 the hide on the opposite side. Black Beaver stepped to 
 a carcass near Terry, and laid hold of an arrow that 
 not only had penetrated through but was dangling two- 
 thirds out. He twitched it forth, showed it to Terry, 
 and rather proudly stowed it in his quiver, indicating 
 that he had drawn the bow which sent it. Whew! 
 Good shooting, that ! 
 
 The women rapidly approached, working from car- 
 cass to carcass. First they forced open the jaws and 
 cut the tongues out by the roots and laid them aside. 
 Then by main strength they turned each buffalo on his 
 back and propped him there by his head and his hump, 
 and slit his hide open and stripped it down. Then they 
 cut off choice pieces of the meat and piled them on the 
 
208 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 hide; pretty soon the buffalo was out of his hide and 
 dragged to one side, where the dogs tore at him even 
 Shep joining, forgetful of the cow. 
 
 Ocasionally a woman split a bone and handed it to 
 one of the children, who sucked out the marrow. 
 General Jackson arose, and stalking over collected 
 several large cracked bones. Returning, he passed them 
 around. Terry was so hungry that he actually tried a 
 taste of the marrow. He found it not so very bad, 
 although rather fatty and insipid. 
 
 Not nearly all of each buffalo was cut up. The 
 women seemed to have only certain meat and bones 
 in mind. In time there was a great sight, of black 
 heads attached to the red bodies, piles of meat, and 
 quarreling dogs. Whenever an arrow was cut out, 
 the squaw laid it carefully aside. 
 
 The meat, on the hides, was dragged to a central lo- 
 cation, and the children were stationed to drive away 
 the dogs. A few of the best cow hides were pegged out, 
 flesh side up, to dry ; other hides were thrown over the 
 meat, for covering. Fires were made, from dried 
 buffalo chips started with dead grass, and two flints 
 knocked together, and everybody squatted around and 
 roasted buffalo meat, and ate and ate. 
 
 Not much more was done by the men, this day, but 
 the women kept busy preparing the meat for packing 
 home. Some of it they cut into long thin strips, and 
 strung by hide thongs between the lean-to poles that 
 they had brought down from the other camp. A few 
 chunks, together with the tongues that were not eaten, 
 were wrapped in the hides and tied securely. But the 
 major portion of the buffalo was wasted. 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL 209 
 
 And that night, around the camp in the open howled 
 an army of wolves. 
 
 But before going to bed, Terry went out and got 
 his calf. The mother cow had approached it and was 
 giving it supper, and a good licking over. She was 
 not so pugnacious now, and neither was the calf. Shep 
 easily tolled her away, in chase of him, while General 
 Jackson showed Terry a new trick. 
 
 " Hold 'um by head, blow 'um in nose/' he bade. 
 " Calf he follow." 
 
 Terry boldly slipped his hands along the calf's back, 
 held the little fellow's head, and blew twice into his 
 quivering nostrils. It seemed to astonish the calf but 
 when Terry pulled the rope free and led him along, 
 for camp, he trotted obediently right at Terry's heels, 
 as if Terry were his mother! 
 
 When he had been tied out again, close to the camp, 
 the mother sidled on and in the dusk joined him. 
 
 " Home to-morrow, mebbe," anounced General Jack- 
 son. 
 
 After a heavy supper of more buffalo meat, in spite 
 of the clamor from the wolves the camp slept soundly 
 through the night so soundly that it did not stir until 
 the sun was well up. Consequently, what with catching 
 the strayed horses, and gathering the partially dried 
 meat and a few hides and packing them, and sorting 
 the arrows and cleaning weapons, etc., etc., not until 
 almost noon did the laden cavalcade start eastward for 
 the hills and the Valley of the Blue beyond. 
 
 Terry at the rear of the file of men led the calf (who 
 really did not require leading), the mother cow ambled 
 
210 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 anxiously after, and the women, with the packs, fol- 
 lowed. Nobody could deny that this had been a success- 
 ful hunt. Wait till George Stanton heard about it! 
 
 So they wended up into the hills. Behind and below 
 remained the buffalo carcasses, to furnish food for the 
 wolves, and skeletons for the information of the next 
 hunters. 
 
 The Delaware men had resumed their guns and 
 saddles and customary clothing. Black Beaver of 
 course took the fore. It was wonderful how he guided 
 without any hesitation, always finding the easiest route 
 and steadily gaining ground. But late in the afternoon 
 he suddenly halted, while traversing a little glade, or 
 park. Halted the single column, and then Jim Ned 
 and the other men rode forward to gather beside him. 
 Terry curiously edged on, to learn what was the mat- 
 ter. 
 
 The Delawares appeared to be examining some- 
 thing on the ground immediately under their ponies. 
 The ground here was hard, covered with a short turf 
 dried by the summer sun, and for the life of him Terry 
 could not see what they all were looking at. For his 
 benefit General Jackson held up two fingers. 
 
 " One 'urn, two 'urn ponies," he said. " Go that 
 way," and he pointed north. " Mebbe Cheyenne." 
 
 The Delawares were much interested in the invisible 
 tracks. They ranged keenly about the glade, inspecting 
 the ground and next a low call from Black Beaver 
 drew them all, Terry included (dropping his calf rope), 
 a short distance into the timber. 
 
 Black Beaver had discovered a spring, and in the 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL 211 
 
 moist soil around it, more prints. But these were 
 visible, even to Terry. There was one distinct print, 
 oblong, over which the Delawares pored earnestly. 
 
 " Cheyenne," they said, and all nodded. 
 
 Evidently it was a moccasin print. Now the Dela- 
 wares deliberated together, talking in low tones. Pres- 
 ently they had decided. They all rode back into the 
 glade, where the women, with the packs, waited. 
 
 Black Beaver uttered a few words to them. 
 
 " Delaware take trail, ketch 'urn Cheyenne/' re- 
 marked General Jackson, to Terry. " Boy stay with 
 
 women." 
 
 " Can't I go ? " begged Terry. " See Delaware ketch 
 
 'urn." 
 
 " Huh ! " grunted the General, approving. " All 
 right. Leave 'urn dog, leave 'urn calf. Not far. 
 Ketch 'urn quick. Trail two hour old." 
 
 " How do you know ? " queried Terry. 
 
 General Jackson promptly beckoned him aside, and 
 pointed to a bush. A twig, broken by the passage of 
 some heavy body, hung broken. 
 
 " No dead," said the General and sure enough, 
 the leaves on the twig were scarcely withered. 
 
 The women had dismounted, as if to make camp. 
 Black Beaver was leading out, the other men fell in 
 line behind him, and with a " Go back ! " to the dis- 
 appointed Shep Terry followed. With all these Dela- 
 wares chasing two Cheyennes, it did not seem to him 
 that there would be much danger; and besides, he 
 wanted to see what happened. No boy wearing a 
 
212 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 panther claw necklace wished to stay in camp with the 
 squaws! Heap war-path, wah! 
 
 Black Beaver led rapidly, constantly scrutinizing the 
 ground before, and searching right and left. At the top 
 of every rise he slackened, peering, and he was equally 
 cautious when he approached the open places. But 
 the trail was as plain as paint to him. The other Del- 
 a wares all rode watchfully; and Terry, in the rear, 
 began to think that maybe this was a serious matter. 
 
 The trail proved to be a long one. They rode and 
 they rode, without a halt, up hill and down dale, never 
 minding the deer and the rabbits until, after the sun 
 had set, in the twilight Black Beaver suddenly stopped 
 short. 
 
 The trail of the two horses had merged with a much 
 wider trail that trampled down the brush and tore the 
 sod. It bore off to the left. The two horses must have 
 turned into it, for their tracks did not appear on the 
 other side. 
 
 The Delawares consulted here for five minutes. Per- 
 haps they had run into something that they had not ex- 
 pected. At any rate, this was a new phase in the situ- 
 ation to date, and required further planning. Even to 
 Terry the cross trail looked alarming. Many horses had 
 passed. 
 
 The Delawares carefully examined, eying the trail 
 itself and the outskirts. Black Beaver dismounted, the 
 closer to scan. 
 
 " Heap Cheyenne," quoth General Jackson, to Terry. 
 " War party ; no dog, no lodge, no take 'um squaw ; 
 hunt 'urn scalp, no hunt 'urn buff." 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL 213 
 
 Black Beaver was in the saddle again, and led off 
 down the trail. The other men followed ; so did Terry. 
 The Delawares were going right after them, were 
 they? Now this was decidedly a serious matter. To 
 chase two horses and riders might not be very danger- 
 ous, but to chase a whole lot was different. And a war 
 party, too! 
 
 Terry reflected that possibly he would have displayed 
 more good sense had he stayed in camp. His mother 
 had not let him come, to mix up in any fights, except 
 to defend himself; and these Cheyennes had not 
 bothered him or the Delawares either. But of course 
 he could not excuse himself and turn back now. He 
 had to stick. 
 
 As anybody could see, this was a fresh trail. Broken 
 twigs and bruised leaves and grass were still sappy ; and 
 the hoof-prints in the softer sod were still clean and 
 damp. The Delawares rode alertly and steadily. Twi- 
 light faded, the dusk gathered, and there were tokens 
 ahead that the trail was about to issue out of the hills 
 and into the Valley of the Republican or at least, 
 what likely would be the Valley of the Republican, 
 above the place of the buffalo hunt. 
 
 The trail was almost obscured by the dusk. The 
 Delawares moved more slowly, down a long draw 
 which formed a pass to the lower country. Under a 
 tree Black Beaver once more halted, and another con- 
 ference was held. It ended by Black Beaver riding on 
 alone and the other men dismounting and sitting as if 
 to wait for his return. They placidly sat enveloped in 
 their buffalo robes, each holding the end of his pony's 
 
214 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 neck rope ; and Terry saw nothing to do but to do like- 
 wise. So he wrapped his blanket around him, and 
 squatted. It was no time to ask questions. 
 
 The horses stood, tired, with drooping heads, and 
 the darkness thickened, while nobody uttered a word. 
 Terry nodded, nodded, tried to keep his eyes open, and 
 must have fallen asleep, after all, for the next thing 
 that he knew, Black Beaver had returned ; was getting 
 off his horse, in the darkness, and joining the circle. 
 He may have been gone several hours; there was no 
 means of telling. 
 
 Now the Indians put their heads together, after a 
 fashion, and heard his report, and grunted opinions. 
 Black Beaver occasionally gestured and signed. All 
 seemed to understand him perfectly that is, all but 
 Terry. The discussion apparently was settled to sat- 
 isfaction. The Delawares rose, unsaddled (Terry 
 promptly did the same), the horses were staked out 
 with the picket ropes to graze, and in the darkness strips 
 of dried venison were chewed, as supper. The strip 
 passed to Terry had been carried inside General Jack- 
 son's shirt, but Terry was so hungry that he did not 
 care. 
 
 Then everybody went to bed. 
 
 " Sleep now, ketch 'urn Cheyenne in mornin'," re- 
 marked the General, as he stretched himself out in his 
 robe. 
 
 " Did Black Beaver find them? " ventured Terry. 
 
 " Him see 'um, to-morrow we ketch 'urn," replied 
 General Jackson. 
 
 " Many ? " invited Terry. 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL 215 
 
 "Heaps." 
 
 "Whew!" thought Terry, although he didn't say 
 it. A pretty outlook this was : a big fight due, between 
 Indians, and he here as a volunteer ! The Dela wares 
 would doubtless expect a boy with a panther claw neck- 
 lace to enjoy fighting as much as they did, and to help 
 them out but if he was killed or taken prisoner, what 
 would become of his mother and the ranch? His 
 mother supposed that he was just on a hunt; she and 
 Harry would much rather have some meat and the cow 
 and the calf, than a scalp and so, he felt, would he. 
 Shucks ! Why couldn't they all go straight home and 
 leave the Cheyennes alone! 
 
 Terry cogitated, without finding any way out, until 
 he slept and began to fight Cheyennes had a terrible 
 battle. Fortunately he was awakened in the midst of it, 
 by the Delawares moving about. Morning! The sky 
 was paling, the draw had lightened, and the Delawares 
 were stripping for action ! 
 
 They had taken off their shirts, and sitting with their 
 buffalo robes about their waists were painting their 
 chests and faces. Black Beaver had daubed his breast 
 with black and white circles; and General Jackson al- 
 ready had drawn curious red lines on his cheeks. Some- 
 what worried, Terry blinked and watched. 
 
 The Delawares (including, of course, the Shaw- 
 nee) finished their decorating, and gravely stood, drop- 
 ping their buffalo robes from their waists and stepping 
 out of them. Then for the first time General Jackson 
 noted Terry. 
 
 " Boy stay. Wait 'um here," he ordered. 
 
216 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Without another word they saddled up, and gun in 
 hand rode out, in single file, Black Beaver leading down 
 the misty draw. They rode silently, half naked, and in 
 a minute were out of sight. 
 
 Terry was left alone, in charge of the discarded 
 clothing. He didn't know whether to be disappointed, 
 or not. No, he wasn't disappointed, exactly. He really 
 had no business in that fight but he'd like awfully 
 well to see it. Those Delawares were great fighters. 
 They were supposed to be able to whip these plains 
 Indians although the Cheyennes and the Sioux were 
 great fighters, too. " Heap " Cheyennes, had said Gen- 
 eral Jackson, but they were going to be surprised while 
 asleep. First thing they knew, the Delawares would 
 be right in among them ! 
 
 Terry listened and fidgeted. How far was that 
 Cheyenne camp, he wondered. If he sneaked down the 
 trail a little way, maybe he could see the fight, and then 
 he'd know how it came out. So he hastily saddled and 
 bridled the colt, and started on a little scout for in- 
 formation. 
 
 Although the draw was slowly clearing, at the ap- 
 proach of day, the stars, above, had not yet wholly dis- 
 appeared, and on either side the timber lay darkened 
 and brooding. Rabbits hopped, and across the trail 
 slunk a coyote or prairie wolf. As he rode cautiously 
 Terry listened hard, expecting every moment to hear 
 guns and shouts, but never a sound reached him. He 
 had ridden about half a mile, along the trail, and the 
 draw soon would open into whatever was before or 
 looked as though it would open when he came to the 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL , 217 
 
 place where the Delawares had left the trail. Fresh 
 pony tracks, crushing the dew, branched off to the left, 
 making around a little rise. The foxy Delawares, too, 
 were on the sneak ! 
 
 Terry decided that he'd get there quicker if he kept 
 to the main trail, as a short cut. Then he could skip 
 back in a hurry. But he had proceeded only a few rods 
 further, when he saw more pony tracks branching off, 
 this time to the right. 
 
 Two ponies; might be the very same two that had 
 been followed yesterday! Probably Black Beaver, on 
 his scout last evening, had not come by the main trail 
 to this point, and he had missed these tracks. It was 
 a great opportunity to discover something. The tracks 
 invited aside, to a bunch of scattered timber at the near 
 head of a shallow side draw. 
 
 Peering, his heart thumping, Terry rode there, but 
 he did not intend to go far. Just as he reached the 
 grove, and was pausing, to crane his neck, he heard 
 among the trees and brush a rustle and a snort and 
 he glimpsed a spotted pony staring at him. His colt 
 pricked its ears, and stared back ; Terry stared also. 
 
 The pony was stripped, and loose he moved, to 
 graze, and dragged a picket rope. Terry got a full 
 view of him why, he was George Stanton's pony 
 George's spotted pony, for there was the diamond 
 brand on his shoulder, and he looked very familiar, 
 anyway ! 
 
 The Cheyennes had stolen him. This must be 
 looked into. If Terry could get near enough to him to 
 grab that trailing rope but hold on! watch out for 
 
218 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 the thieves; they might be camped close at hand. 
 Terry, eyes and ears alert, slipped from the colt, and 
 with gun ready tiptoed forward. 
 
 The gloom amidst the grove had thinned, and he 
 could see clearly among the tree trunks. The pony was 
 suspicious of him did not want to be caught, yet, and 
 moved, twitching the rope after him. Shucks! Too 
 much noise ! Terry paused, glancing keenly around 
 and stiffened. Beyond, wrapped in buffalo robes on 
 the ground under a tree, figures were lying, asleep. 
 They were only about thirty yards away. And there 
 was another pony, picketed but staring. 
 
 Jimmy! Down sank Terry, heart thumping again. 
 The prone figures made two lumps. One lump had two 
 heads, the other lump was covered completely, but 
 somehow it looked Indian. Those two heads and 
 Terry carefully circuited, stooping, to get a better 
 sight. One head was yellowish, with long hair; the 
 other head was black and he could see the faces. 
 They were white! Why George Stanton and Virgie 
 Stanton, sure as sure ! And they were captives. 
 
 Never had Terry thought so fast, as in the next 
 minute. He couldn't shoot blindly into that other 
 buffalo robe; he didn't know who was inside and no- 
 body likes to shoot somebody asleep. In fact, Terry 
 didn't desire to shoot anybody. But he must get George 
 and Virgie away, out of there, before the figure in the 
 other robe woke; and if he didn't hurry, the battle 
 would break loose and that would wake folks in a jiffy. 
 
 First he tiptoed swiftly back to the colt and tied the 
 bridle lines to a bush, to make sure of him. Then he 
 
ON THE WAR TRAIL 219 
 
 stole forward, for the figures put the trunk of their 
 tree between him and them, and sneaked until he 
 reached it. Yes, George and Virgie those were, sound 
 asleep and now almost within reach of his hand, on 
 the other side of the tree trunk. The figure under the 
 second buffalo robe had not stirred, either. 
 
 Pshaw, if George only would wake. But if he was 
 touched he might wake with a jump, and Virgie would 
 
 cry, and ! And if he was called to, the other 
 
 figure might hear. Let's see and suddenly Terry had 
 it. He'd rattle! He'd rattle his Brotherhood token, 
 of course. That was the signal agreed on. George 
 would recognize, and if the other figure heard he 
 wouldn't suspect anything special. Rattlesnakes were 
 common, to Indians. 
 
 Terry cautiously extracted his snake rattles from 
 under his shirt, and squeezing them tightly so as not 
 to sound them too soon, extended his hand and gently 
 rattled in George's ear. George's eyes popped open 
 he blinked, startled and he saw Terry motioning at 
 him from behind the tree. He looked funny, for a 
 moment, but he didn't move; and Terry beckoned. 
 
 George scowled and shook his head. 
 
 " Can't," he formed, with his lips. 
 
 " Come on ! " urged Terry. 
 
 " Can't," answered George and on the instant the 
 timber echoed to a vigorous chorus of gun-shots and 
 wild, shrill war-whoops! The Delawares and the 
 Cheyennes were fighting ! 
 
 That was what Terry had feared. He boldly sprang 
 out with his gun, and only just in time, for the other 
 
220 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 buffalo robe flew apart, as the figure inside it scrambkd 
 to stand up. " Bang ! " exploded one barrel of Terry's 
 gun, into the air and he yelled with all his might, a 
 regular Indian yell. 
 
 The figure was that of an Indian; and how he did 
 run ! At a single bound, like a deer breaking covert, he 
 was into the air and next into the brush doubling and 
 crashing through amidst the trees. 
 
 Whooping, Terry followed, a few steps, and sent the 
 contents of the second barrel rattling after him, to 
 keep him moving. He was Thunder Horse, the Kiowa. 
 Only a glimpse of his ugly face had been given, but 
 that was enough. 
 
 Terry ran back to George and Virgie. He found 
 them sitting up, George pale and Virgie frightened 
 half to death. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 
 
 " Get up, quick ! " bade Terry, breathless. " Hurry, 
 George, before he comes back." 
 
 " I can't," retorted George. " We're tied." 
 
 So he was hands and feet, as he kicked off the 
 buffalo robe. And so was Virgie. She began to cry. 
 
 " Be quiet, Virgie," ordered George. 
 
 " Oh, shucks ! " exclaimed Terry ; and down on his 
 knees he flopped and slashed with his knife at the 
 thongs which bound wrists and ankles. 
 
 " Did you hit him ? " queried George, as he tottered 
 up and lifted Virgie. 
 
 " Don't think so." 
 
 " Wish you had. Didn't he leg it, though ! What's 
 that other shooting ? " 
 
 " The Delawares are fighting the Cheyennes. We 
 thought you were a Cheyenne. Wait till I load." 
 
 " Where's my horse ? " demanded George. " We've 
 got to have a horse. He ran off. I'll take this other." 
 And for it he hobbled. 
 
 " All right. Make yonder," directed Terry, at top 
 speed reloading his shot-gun. 
 
 George grabbed up the buffalo robe (he never 
 221 
 
222 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 missed much, did George!) and seized the picket rope 
 of Thunder Horse's pony. 
 
 " Here ! You take this robe, Virgie," he ordered. 
 " I don't leave my saddle, you bet ! " 
 
 Lugging saddle and bridle, and tugging the pony, 
 with Virgie stoutly dragging the buffalo robe and 
 Terry forming rear-guard his eyes and ears searching 
 for sign of Thunder Horse sneaking back they fled 
 for the colt, and the trail beyond. The spotted pony 
 snorted as they approached him. Lucky that the colt 
 was tied. 
 
 " Where now ? " demanded George, panting, his 
 eyes snapping. 
 
 " You saddle up any way, just so the saddle sticks 
 on," puffed Terry. " Got to ride up the trail about 
 half a mile to camp." 
 
 He watched for Thunder Horse among the trees 
 didn't see him while George slung the saddle on over 
 the buffalo robe, hastily fastened it, after a fashion, 
 clapped on the bridle without inserting the bit (any 
 old way did), lifted Virgie aboard and clambered to 
 place before her. 
 
 Instantly Terry was aboard the colt, and back- 
 tracking for the trail in the draw. Once into the open, 
 away they pelted, up the draw and with a whinny 
 the spotted pony followed after. 
 
 " Dandy's coming, too," piped Virgie. " Will that 
 mean Injun catch us? " 
 
 " Can't. He hasn't any horse," encouraged George. 
 "Good for Dandy!" 
 
 " Won't he run and catch us? " persisted Virgie. 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 223 
 
 "No. Terry'll shoot him." 
 
 " I lost my sunbonnet," whimpered little Virgie. 
 
 " We can't get it now. You can keep this buffalo 
 robe," comforted George. 
 
 " How long did he have you ? Where'd he find 
 you? " asked Terry, as they galloped on, George striv- 
 ing to urge his pony alongside. 
 
 " Just since yesterday noon. Jumped out on us on 
 our way back from Manhattan and hustled us over 
 here. I didn't have eggs or anything to beat him off 
 with." 
 
 " Any Cheyennes with him ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "But the Delawares said those were Cheyenne 
 moccasin tracks: two ponies and Cheyenne moccasin 
 prints." 
 
 " Guess he must be wearing Cheyenne moccasins, 
 then. He had on new ones." 
 
 They had reached the night's camp under the tree. 
 The robes and shirts were here, just as left. Terry 
 reined in the colt and tumbled off. 
 
 " We'd better stop here," he ordered. 
 
 "Thought you said 'camp'," uttered George. 
 " Where are your Delawares ? " 
 
 " Out fighting the Cheyennes. Got to wait for 'em." 
 
 " But supposing Thunder Horse comes. He might 
 sneak up on us, with his gun, as soon as he finds out 
 how he was attacked." 
 
 " Then we ought to tie our horses and climb a tree," 
 proposed Terry. "We can see from there; and he 
 wouldn't think to look up into the trees." 
 
224 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " All right. See him first, too, and pepper him," 
 agreed George who had no small reason to be indig- 
 nant. " Wish I could catch Dandy. But he'll stay 
 'round" 
 
 They tied the two horses, boosted Virgie to the first 
 branch of the tree, whence she climbed like a squirrel, 
 George swarmed after, and handing up his gun Terry 
 followed. Now they were safe above ground, and con- 
 cealed by the leafy boughs could wait and listen and 
 peer. 
 
 " The fighting's quit," whispered George. 
 
 So it had, barring a single shot, now and then, in the 
 distance. Not another sound was to be heard. The 
 horses dozed below. The sun had risen and was strik- 
 ing through with his first beams. 
 
 " How many Delawares ? " whispered George. 
 
 " Five." 
 
 " How many Cheyennes ? " 
 
 " Heaps. You saw that trail." 
 
 " Wonder who licked." 
 
 " Delawares, of course." 
 
 "I want to go home," piped Virgie. 
 
 " Sh! " cautioned George. " Injun hear you! " 
 
 But which had licked, reflected Terry. Supposing 
 it was the Cheyennes ! And supposing they'd come this 
 way, searching for more Delawares! Huh! They'd 
 see the horses, and look up into the tree, and what 
 would he and George do ? 
 
 " Hungry," piped Virgie. 
 
 "Sh, now!" warned George, again. "Don't be- 
 lieve Thunder Horse is trailing us," he whispered, hope- 
 fully, to Terry. " You scared him out." 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 225 
 
 " We can't tell," whispered back Terry. 
 
 " That was awful smart of you, anyway, to use that 
 rattle," mused George. " I knew right away it was a 
 Brotherhood signal." 
 
 They sat silent, waiting. All shooting had ceased, 
 and the draw and timber basked peacefully in the morn- 
 ing sun. A belated rabbit hopped about, in plain sight, 
 near, browsing and scratching. 
 
 " There isn't any Indian down there or that rabbit 
 wouldn't be so bumptious," reasoned George. " Horses 
 don't smell anything, either." 
 
 " Guess that's so," admitted Terry. " Look out 
 Virgie's going to sleep. She'll fall off." 
 
 " I'll hold her on," and George steadied her. 
 
 The minutes passed. 
 
 " Listen ! " whispered Terry. 
 
 Somebody was coming several somebodies. Soft 
 hoof thuds could be heard, down the draw; voices 
 and laughter. Rounding a clump of high brush the 
 Delawares appeared, Black Beaver leading, followed 
 by General Jackson and the rest driving before them 
 half a dozen loose horses. They all were there, the 
 five of them, and they acted with the good humor of 
 victors. 
 
 "That's they!" yelped Terry. "Now we're all 
 right. Come on." 
 
 Black Beaver had instantly sighted George's spotted 
 pony, and the pony of Thunder Horse, besides the colt 
 and halted sharply, in alarm. But out from the tree 
 plumped Terry, gladly landing a-sprawl; down slid 
 George, helping the sleepy Virgie. 
 
226 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 "Where ketch 'um?" demanded General Jackson. 
 
 " Ketch 'um from Thunder Horse," informed Terry. 
 " He ketch 'um first, I ketch 'um next." 
 
 " Where him ? " demanded General Jackson, his eyes 
 darting in search. " Mebbe you kill 'um ? " 
 
 "No. Run." 
 
 " That's his pony, though," piped Virgie. " He ran 
 off because he was afraid and we took his pony and 
 his buffalo robe and we aren't going to give them back 
 because he stole us." 
 
 " Did you lick the Cheyennes? " asked George. 
 
 " Humph ! Cheyenne run, too," grunted the Gen- 
 eral. 
 
 " I don't see any scalps, do you ? " said George, to 
 Terry. 
 
 There was no time here for explanations. The Del- 
 awares now were evidently in a great hurry. They 
 speedily gathered their few belongings, George man- 
 aged to lay his hands on Dandy's trailing picket rope. 
 With George bareback, Virgie on the Thunder Horse 
 pony and Terry on his colt, the whole party lined out 
 for the spot where the Delaware women were waiting. 
 
 But this gave Terry and George an opportunity to 
 swap stories. George thought that Terry should have 
 killed some buffalo, but he agreed that the cow and the 
 calf were a great find. 
 
 " Expect she's some emigrant cow who strayed off 
 and joined the buffalo," he said. " Your mother'll be 
 mighty glad, won't she ! Didn't you get anything else, 
 on your hunt? " 
 
 " Got a big buck shot him running, too. I could 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 227 
 
 have got a doe that General Jackson bleated for, but I 
 wouldn't shoot at her. Then the General shot, and 
 missed; and that made him mad, so he went off by 
 himself and shot one anyhow." 
 
 "What's bleating?" queried George. 
 
 " Fll show you. We'll make a bleater and learn 
 how. Say," Terry added. " Expect your folks will 
 be mighty glad to see you and Virgie." 
 
 " I guess so" nodded George, gravely. " That Ki- 
 owa must have counted on holding us captive for 
 ransom. Of course I couldn't get away from him 
 without Virgie. When he turned us into that big 
 Indian trail I thought we were goners, sure, but he just 
 followed it far enough to spy out who they were and 
 then he quit it and made his own camp. He's a sort 
 of an outlaw." 
 
 " It's lucky you weren't in that Cheyenne camp," 
 reasoned Terry, "or when the Delawares attacked 
 it you'd have been carried off scooting." 
 
 " Yes, and it's lucky you found us before the battle 
 broke loose, or you might not have found us at all. 
 You were smart to hustle. Maybe pa' 11 let me get my 
 pistol fixed, now, with a real hammer. Then I'd 
 like to see any old Kiowa tackle me" and Georg^ 
 wagged his head vengefully. " I wasn't afraid, though, 
 except for Virgie. She's too little to join the Injuns. 
 I could have run away, the' first chance I got." 
 
 The Delaware women were waiting. They did not 
 seem at all excited. They had meat cooking, as if they 
 knew that their warriors would be hungry, and they 
 only broadly smiled when they saw George and Virgie, 
 
228 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 and the captured horses. Shep was the excited one. 
 For him it had been an anxious wait. 
 
 Now everybody, including the hungry Virgie, whom 
 Mrs. Black Beaver at once took in charge, fell to 
 and ate. From what Terry could gather, the battle was 
 a great victory for the Delawares although as far 
 as he learned nobody had been hurt. The Chey- 
 ennes had scampered in a panic, when they were sur- 
 prised, and the Delawares had seized some loose ponies 
 and had wisely retired while they could. 
 
 Now after breakfast (or was it dinner?) they washed 
 off their war paint, and Black Beaver led out again, for 
 home. 
 
 " Hope we strike our place," voiced Terry, as the 
 cavalcade filed down into the Valley of the Blue. 
 
 " And then go on down to ours," added George. 
 " Won't our folks' eyes stick out ! " 
 
 And indeed, with the Indians, and the loose horses, 
 and the laden horses, and the cow and the half -buffalo 
 calf, and the two boys, and Virgie (who led the calf, as 
 a privilege), the procession made quite a sight. 
 
 Sure enough, toward evening the Richards' ranch 
 was sighted, before; and while Terry's mother stood 
 watching, from the cabin door, and Harry came limp- 
 ing hastily from the chores, the successful party bore 
 straight for the yard. 
 
 " For goodness' sake ! " exclaimed Terry's mother, 
 as they halted and she hurried forward. " You are 
 back, aren't you ! Oh, but I'm glad ! Where did you 
 find George and Virgie ? " 
 
 " Where'd you get the cow ? " called Harry. " And 
 that calf!" 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 229 
 
 " Found 'em. Found George and Virgie, too. I'll 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 " A bad Injun had us," piped Virgie. " And Terry 
 scared him away." 
 
 "I declare!" 
 
 There was time for only a kiss and a hug ; the Del- 
 awares were unpacking some of the meat, as if wishing 
 to be away. With Terry, Harry helped pile it at one 
 side. From his saddle, General Jackson patted Terry 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 " Heap boy," he said. " Ketch 'urn cow, ketch 'urn 
 calf, ketch 'urn white boy, ketch 'urn white girl, scare 
 J um Kiowa. Go again, mebbe." 
 
 When the Delawares rode off, escorting George and 
 Virgie, they left a lot of venison and buffalo meat, three 
 buffalo robes, the cow and the calf, of course, and at 
 parting General Jackson thrust a small object into 
 Terry's hand. 
 
 "Learn 'urn bleat, then ketch 'urn deer easy," he 
 spoke. 
 
 It was his bleater. He may have heard Terry and 
 George talking. Terry was immensely glad to have it, 
 for he wasn't certain that he could make one without 
 a model. 
 
 " What's that, Terry? " queried his mother. 
 
 " It's a deer call, ma. I'll show you " proffered 
 Terry, excited. 
 
 But his mother uttered a little shriek. 
 
 " Don't put that to your mouth, Terry ! Please 
 don't! I'll give it a good wash with soap and water. 
 
 All right. But Terry believed that if his mother had 
 
230 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 been out with Indians for a while, and had done as 
 they had done, she wouldn't be so particular. 
 
 With the Del^wares George and Virgie had ridden 
 gaily down the valley, for home. Now the booty of 
 the hunt was to be attended to, at once. The meat and 
 the robes were welcome, but the greatest prize was the 
 cow and the calf. When they had been safely landed 
 in the corral, for the night, Terry's mother was still 
 exclaiming over them. 
 
 " To think, that we have a cow at least, till the 
 owner claims her! The calf is old enough to be 
 weaned ; and then there'll be plenty of milk, and I can 
 make butter ! Oh, Terry, how did you ever do it? " 
 
 This was part of the long story to be told at supper. 
 In the evening Mr. Stanton rode over, to thank Terry 
 for the prompt rescue of George and Virgie. He and 
 Harry looked the cow over; decided that there was 
 small chance of anybody claiming her, at this late day ; 
 and that perhaps the calf could be broken to pull. He 
 was a sturdy little rascal; he'd probably always look 
 like a buffalo. 
 
 So, with a cow and calf added to its stock, the 
 ranch felt very prosperous. The hay and corn and oats 
 were all doing well; the garden was booming such 
 tender beans and sweet beets and young potatoes ; there 
 was the bee tree, waiting to contribute to " milk and 
 honey " ; and there was the deer bleat, in case the table 
 ran entirely out of meat. 
 
 Terry was not certain that he could stand it to shoot 
 a mother doe, after he had called her up; seemed to 
 him like murder; but he and George were anxious to 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 231 
 
 learn how to bleat, if only for fun. Harry, who was 
 clever, made a bleater for George, patterned on the Gen- 
 eral Jackson bleater, and they all tried, in spare mo- 
 ments, until Terry's mother and George's mother de- 
 clared that the sounds were worse than a flock of 
 geese. 
 
 August arrived, and opened scorching hot. The oats 
 were nodding, the corn was ripened, the hay was ready 
 to cut. Meanwhile Harry and Terry were busy with 
 saw and ax down in the timber. But before pitching 
 into the hay, Harry decided that they'd cut down the 
 bee tree, and have that much fun, at least. There'd be 
 no time, a little later. 
 
 George rode over, on the Indian pony, and Virgie 
 with him, on Dandy (who was now hers) , for the event. 
 But Virgie, when she understood that these were 
 " stinging " bees, and might object to being robbed of 
 their honey, stayed at the house. With the ax, and all 
 the pails and pans they could gather, the three others 
 trudged down to the timber. 
 
 The timber was cool, as compared with the prairie. 
 The bees were as busy as ever, storing their honey. 
 Harry surveyed their hole, and the trunk, and scratched 
 his nose. 
 
 " If s hollow, and will die anyway," he remarked. 
 " We can use it for fire- wood. And the bees have three 
 months yet to rustle in. So down she comes. You 
 boys be making a smudge. I'm going to fall her in 
 that open space." 
 
 He lustily swung the ax every stroke biting out a 
 
232 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 chip. The tree, echoing hollowly, trembled, and the 
 bees above buzzed, much annoyed. 
 
 " Get a lot of rotten wood and damp stuff," bade 
 George. " I'll start the fire. And when she falls, make 
 a rush for her with the smudge." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Carry the fire to the hole on a piece of bark," said 
 George. " But we want to be lively." 
 
 " Oh, you'll be lively enough," panted Harry. " I'd 
 advise you to have some branches handy, till the smoke 
 gets to working." 
 
 The fire was started on a large piece of wet bark; 
 the punky stuff was made ready. Thwack, thwack, 
 sounded the methodical blows of Harry's ax. He had 
 notched the tree on the side toward which it was to fall, 
 and was sending wedge-shaped chips flying. 
 
 " He's a first-class chopper, isn't he ! " praised 
 George, who had viewed him with critical eye. 
 
 " There's nothing like knowing how," panted Harry. 
 
 In the heart the tree was soft; and having cut half- 
 way through, Harry changed to the opposite side. Al- 
 ready the tree was creaking ominously. 
 
 " Watch out. Stand aside," cautioned Harry, as he 
 plied the ax. " When she falls she'll fall with a rush." 
 
 " Right in the open place ? " asked Terry. 
 
 " Right in the open place, unless she catches and 
 swerves. Don't you take any chances." 
 
 " And be ready with the smudge," reminded George. 
 
 The tree began to lean crackled sharply Harry 
 delivered one last blow and sprang back the tree wav- 
 ered settled and down it came, with a magnificent 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 233 
 
 crash, leaving a trail of bees in the air. It landed smack 
 in the open place. Shep, who had stretched himself to 
 sleep, up-jumped in alarm, but forward dashed the two 
 boys, branches in one hand, fire and punk in the other. 
 
 " Where's the hole ? " cried George, holding the fire. 
 " I see it! Look out for the bees. Oh, jiminy! Pro- 
 tect me, can't you ? You swat while I smudge." 
 
 There was nothing cowardly about George ; no. Into 
 the boughs he charged, tripping and diving, and reck- 
 lessly planted his barkful of fire beside the hole. The 
 bees were clustered thick about it, and were swarming 
 out and buzzing wildly. 
 
 " Swat 'em ! Swat 'em ! " implored George, stooping 
 low and blowing the fire and piling on smudge stuff. 
 
 Terry, standing over, to protect, valiantly lashed 
 around with his leafy branch. Harry, panting and 
 resting, cheered laughingly while Shep, who also had 
 rushed in, looking for a coon or a squirrel, uttered a 
 sudden yelp and beat retreat, his tail between his legs. 
 
 However, the battle with the bees was soon over. 
 The great majority of the bees stayed high aloft, look- 
 ing for their hole which had so miraculously vanished. 
 Those lower avoided the smudge smoke; and those 
 about the hole fell off, to wander stupidly or else to 
 dart away in disgust. 
 
 "Didn't get stung once; did you?" asked George, 
 venturing to straighten up. 
 
 " Only once on the ear," answered Terry. " But I 
 didn't feel it. Feel it now, though." 
 
 Harry had advanced into the smoke, and began to 
 chop open the hole. At the first stroke, his ax sank in 
 
234 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 to the butt ; and by driving wedges they easily split the 
 thin core. The hollow extended for six feet and was 
 packed with comb some of it black and old and waxy, 
 but the greater portion oozing with the lucent sweet- 
 ness. 
 
 " Cracky ! There must be several bushels of it ! " 
 exclaimed George. 
 
 They scooped comb and honey both into their pails 
 and pans, and made triumphant procession back up to 
 the house; emptied their loads into a wash boiler, and 
 toiled down for more. By the time they had pretty 
 well scraped the cavity, they all were hot and sticky, 
 not to speak of being thoroughly smoked. 
 
 " I feel like a sugar cured ham," asserted George. 
 " I'd like to jump in that creek, if I wasn't afraid I'd 
 melt." 
 
 " Good ! " approved Harry. " We'll all take a swim. 
 Got time enough before dinner. That's the only way 
 we'll ever get clean. You fellows be peeling off, and 
 I'll take the rest of the honey on up so Mother Richards 
 can be straining it, and come back." 
 
 That was the way with Harry: he always urged 
 the others on to have fun, while he finished the work. 
 
 Away he limped, lugging the two pails; and with a 
 " Come on " to George and Shep, Terry struck through 
 the timber for the creek. The water called powerfully. 
 
 The best swimming-place was about 300 yards dis- 
 tant, where the creek made a bend into the timber ; with 
 grassy banks in sun and in shade, one bank high and 
 level, the other shelving to gravelly shallows. A fel- 
 low could swim and dive in the water up to his neck, 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 235 
 
 along the high bank, or he could tear about and run 
 races through the shallows. So it was a splendid swim- 
 ing hole. 
 
 They peeled off in a hurry, on the high bank, and 
 with a running jump plumped in. Ah, but this was 
 glorious. The water was just right. Shep dropped 
 down near the clothes, in the shade, and took another 
 snooze. 
 
 They had been in the creek about half an hour, do- 
 ing all kinds of things, when Terry suddenly remem- 
 bered. 
 
 " Wonder why Harry doesn't come." 
 
 " Dunno," sputtered George, standing up. " Must 
 be helping your mother. That's like him." 
 
 "Want to go out?" 
 
 " No. He said he'd come." 
 
 " I tell you," spoke Terry : " let's put on our shirts 
 and go up to the deer drinking place and bleat. He'll 
 know where we are." 
 
 " Haven't got my bleater," objected George. " It's 
 at home." 
 
 " I've got mine," persisted Terry. " I've learned 
 how to bleat fine." 
 
 "Shucks!" scoffed George. "You can't fool a 
 deer now. The fawns are too big to bleat much. There 
 wouldn't be any deer around, either, after this noise." 
 
 " There might," persisted Terry. " They lie close 
 this time of day, and you can hardly budge them. And 
 some fawns are born late." 
 
 So they hauled on their shirts, Terry fished his 
 bleater out of hi* trousers pocket, and bare-legged 
 
236 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 they went up to the deer drinking place. Shep dawdled 
 after, to see what was going on. 
 
 At a low spot the deer had made a narrow trail to 
 the water's edge, where they stole down out of the tim- 
 ber and brush, to drink, and to cross over if they felt 
 like it. The boys crouched behind a low tree, and Terry 
 began to bleat his best. 
 
 The timber was quiet. The bleat sounded clearly, 
 and to Terry very natural almost like General Jack- 
 son's bleat. But George was particular. 
 
 " That's not it," he whispered. " You're too loud." 
 
 " Wait, now," bade Terry. He modulated the notes, 
 a little and struck the exact pitch. Never had he 
 bleated so well. 
 
 " Let me try," invited George, in low tone, as Terry 
 finally paused to rest his mouth. Terry obligingly 
 passed the bleater to him. George did well, too. If 
 there was any mother deer near, she'd certainly be 
 interested. 
 
 " Got to make it sound frightened. Here I'll show 
 you," whispered Terry, taking the bleater again. 
 
 He bleated industriously. Now and then he quit, 
 while they peered and listened. They bleated and re- 
 bleated for some time. No deer. 
 
 " Let's go," whispered George. " Flies are eating 
 me up," and he cautiously scratched his bare shanks. 
 " Jiminy, how they bite ! " 
 
 But Terry suddenly nudged him. 
 
 " Sh ! One's coming ! Look at Shep." 
 
 Shep, who had been sleepily gazing about, and nod- 
 ding between times, beside them, had raised his head. 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 
 
 His ears were pricked he was sniffing and staring, 
 and the bristles on his back were rising. 
 
 Terry bleated more agonizedly. This was exciting. 
 No deer was in sight, but Shep certainly smelled some- 
 thing and, yes, he saw something, right yonder. His 
 eyes were fixed and wide. They glowed, and he slowly 
 stood stiffened, with every hair erect. He growled, 
 low and deep. 
 
 " Shep ! Down ! " whispered Terry. " No ! " 
 
 George, too, stiffened, gazing where Shep was gaz- 
 ing. 
 
 " Terry ! " he gasped, under his breath. " Oh, gee ! 
 Look ! I see it ! Quit it's a panther. We've called a 
 panther!" 
 
 Terry saw, also his bleater silent at his lips. Less 
 than thirty yards before and a little at one side, an 
 unmistakable long tawny shape, close to the ground, 
 slunk swiftly from tree to tree, heading straight for 
 them. He was seeking the fawn. 
 
 With frightened impulse Terry sprang upright, and 
 shouted frantically, waving his arms. The panther mo- 
 mentarily stared, gave a great leap and disappeared into 
 a bunch of brush. Shep whined impatient. 
 
 " Is he gone ? " queried George. 
 
 No there he was, closer; slinking as elusive as a 
 shadow, from covert to covert, bent upon locating that 
 fawn. Vainly George joined with Terry in shouting. 
 He disappeared perhaps he was gone, at last; but 
 watch Shep Shep still saw him; and there he was, 
 again, boldly in the open. He had made a half-circuit 
 of the ambush, had determined that no two boys, bare- 
 
238 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 legged in their shirts, should balk him of the fawn; 
 and crouching flat, stomach to sod, was creeping for- 
 ward. 
 
 He was almost within striking distance. They could 
 see his eyes shine greenly; his fangs bared in a snarl 
 whenever they shouted; his long tail twitch and his 
 hind quarters quiver while his claws gripped the 
 ground. 
 
 " Shall we run? " asked George, striving to hold his 
 voice steady. 
 
 " No ; he'd catch us." For what chance had two 
 half-naked boys, with a panther at their backs? 
 
 " Make for the creek." 
 
 rp 
 
 " Shep ! " implored Terry, frenzied with new fear. 
 "Here! Shep!" 
 
 " Oh, thunder ! " gasped George. 
 
 But they could do nothing. Out had stalked Shep 
 brave old Shep and stiff-legged, head and tail low, 
 the bristles on his back up-standing like a mane, growl- 
 ing with a constant deep-throated rumble, had advanced 
 into the open to fight in their defence. All Terry's 
 desperate entreaties and commands could not turn him. 
 He knew his duty. 
 
 So they could only watch did not dare to sick him 
 it would be cruel to sick him, for what dog could whip 
 a big torn panther? And Shep needed no sicking. 
 Terry felt George trembling with excitement, and 
 wondered if it would be wicked to pray that Shep be 
 the victor. 
 
 Steadily Shep stalked forward, careful step by care- 
 
SHEP TO THE FORE AGAIN 239 
 
 ful step. The great cat settled lower still, his ears 
 flattened to nothing, his tail tip swished from side to 
 side, his eyes fairly blazed, and with open mouth he 
 snarled viciously. 
 
 Now scarce ten yards separated them on a sudden 
 Shep's deep growl swelled to a roar and he charged. 
 With a shrill scream the panther bounded high, met 
 him, they clinched, and went tumbling over and over 
 along the ground 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 
 
 THE sod and twigs flew, spattering the two boys as 
 standing, fascinated and helpless, they danced up and 
 down and at last cheered Shep on. 
 
 "Get him, Shep! Sick! Good Shep! Sick! 
 Sick ! Chew him, boy ! " 
 
 Terry was wild to rush in and help, but he and 
 George were bare legged, and not a stick of any size 
 met their frantic gaze. 
 
 Over and over rolled the fighters first Shep's shaggy 
 form would appear, as he hung fast and slashed and 
 tore ; then the writhing, kicking, tawny form of the cat. 
 What a medley of growls and snarls, of throaty barks 
 and high screams, made all the timber echo ! 
 
 Abruptly Shep came flying out of the fracas. Right 
 through the air he was hurled, by a terrific kick from 
 the panther's powerful hind legs. He landed in a heap, 
 and hastily scrambled to his feet. His sides were 
 streaked with red where the cat's long claws had ripped, 
 and a fore leg was bitten through and through. For a 
 moment he stood panting and whining. The panther 
 again crouched, lashing with his tail and snarling in 
 
 240 
 
A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 241 
 
 high, rasping tone, while his eyes burned green. He, 
 too, was bleeding ; an ear dripped, and the hide around 
 his throat and neck was torn open by Shep's worrying 
 teeth. 
 
 "Shep! Here!" implored the boys. But before 
 Terry could rush out to grab him by the collar, he had 
 pluckily charged. He circled and recircled, darting in 
 and out while ever the cat turned to face him. For this 
 was Shep's way of fighting springing and slashing, 
 wolf-like. And then they closed. The panther was too 
 quick for him, with a lightning spring had seized him, 
 dragged him down, and clasping him with the fore 
 legs bit and chewed, and ripped with the hind legs. 
 
 Over and over they rolled again, in furious struggles 
 and horrid noise of growls and snarls. How the 
 panther kicked and bit ! He was stronger than Shep 
 and this was a fight to a finish. Shep surely was a gone 
 dog. He seemed to be growing weaker. Oh, for a 
 club for any way to help him ! Terry was trembling 
 and heart-sick. If he had on his shoes he would have 
 bolted in and used them would have done some kick- 
 ing, himself. 
 
 The panther now appeared to be clinging closer and 
 working harder; Shep strove only feebly, as he was 
 being dragged lower and lower. George moaned des- 
 pairingly. 
 
 " He's being killed ! " he gasped. 
 
 But see! With a thud of rapid feet, and a 
 quick cry : " Look out ! Shep ! Hold him, Shep ! " 
 Harry had arrived, on the run. The ax was in his 
 hand and in one jump he reached the writhing, tumb- 
 
242 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 ling bunch. For a moment he poised, ax lifted, waiting 
 a chance. It came, when just for an instant the bunch 
 stilled, as Shep collapsed and the cat kicked and wor- 
 ried. Down swooped the ax, smashing with dull sound 
 into the tawny body, crouched with Shep underneath. 
 Clean upon the tense back, between the shoulders, it 
 landed. Harry sprang aside for another blow. The 
 panther stiffened, and bloody head tossing loosely went 
 twisting and kicking, now regardless of Shep. 
 
 Harry followed, watching his chance while he kept 
 clear of the claws. Suddenly he struck again, and 
 again and again. The panther's strangled yowls sub- 
 sided, and he lay stretched and quivering, a gory mass 
 of hide and flesh, his teeth still bared in a last snarl. 
 
 Harry paused, white and panting. But without 
 waiting to thank him, Terry darted, weak-kneed, for 
 Shep. 
 
 "Shep! Poor old Shep!" 
 
 Shep was there, where the final grip on him had been 
 broken. He could not stand. He had sunk down, with 
 his four legs sprawled beneath him, and his nose pa- 
 thetically extended along the ground. He crawled a 
 few inches, at the sound of his master's voice, and sank 
 again. His eyes were closed, but he tried to wag his 
 tail. That was a good sign. 
 
 They all bent over him. 
 
 " Shep ! Good doggie ! Brave doggie ! " 
 
 " Will he die? " quavered Terry. 
 
 " Let's see," bade Harry. 
 
 " Jiminy, but he's cut! " stammered George. 
 
 They tenderly examined Shep, who submitted to their 
 
A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 243 
 
 touches as if he knew what was being done. One fore 
 leg was gashed and bitten through and through; his 
 collar was bitten, also, and there were tooth holes 
 in his neck ; the panther's claws had torn his shoulders, 
 with their grip, and had ploughed deep furrows along 
 his sides and stomach. One ear hung useless, chewed 
 to ribbons. But 
 
 " No, he won't die," asserted Harry. " Good ! See ? 
 Those are all flesh-wounds. Maybe his ear is broken; 
 can't tell. His leg isn't broken, though. Let's get some 
 water and wash him off." 
 
 "You think he'll get well?" 
 
 " Sure. In two weeks he'll be ready for another tus- 
 sle. Won't you, Shep, old boy ? " 
 
 Shep opened his eyes, wagged his tail, and licked 
 Terry's hand. Away raced Terry and George for the 
 creek, and raced back with water in their hats. By 
 this time Shep was trying to stand up; did stand up, 
 on shaky legs; shook himself, and licked some of his 
 bites ; did not particularly want to be washed although 
 he submitted to being fussed over and seemed to ap- 
 preciate the attention; sneezed; sighted the panther's 
 body, and growling hobbled forward ; circled gingerly, 
 one ear pricked and nose sniffing and stalking closer, 
 smelled of the carcass, and growled over it. Then he 
 sat down and licked his wounds, while watching his 
 enemy. 
 
 " He's all right," assured Harry. 
 
 " You came just in time, though," said George. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder. Just in time for Shep, any- 
 way." 
 
244 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Maybe the panther would have got us, too," haz- 
 arded Terry. " He was awful mad." 
 
 " Funny why he would have attacked you," said 
 Harry, now less white. 
 
 " We were bleating for deer. He thought we had a 
 fawn," explained Terry. 
 
 " Oh, I see." 
 
 " You came quick when you did come," exclaimed 
 Terry. " We didn't have a thing to help Shep with 
 not even a stick. Whew ! " 
 
 " I might not have had anything, either, if I'd come 
 sooner, as I expected to," said Harry. " But when I 
 found your clothes I heard this bawling and fighting, 
 and ran for the ax." 
 
 " Now you belong to our clan," declared George, 
 warmly. "Doesn't he, Terry! He's a brother. He 
 needn't get any rattles, first. He can wear a panther 
 claw necklace like yours. 
 
 " No, Shep ought to wear the claws. He's entitled 
 to be a member in very high standing," asserted Harry. 
 " Aren't you, Shep ? Besides, I have my own badge. 
 That's why I didn't get here sooner: stopped to kill 
 a tremendous big rattler, on my way from the house. 
 He had his thirteen rattles. I've got 'em in my pocket, 
 to save 'em till I deserved to be in the brotherhood." 
 
 "How'd you kill him?" 
 
 " Held him down with a forked stick and hammered 
 his head with my shoe," cheerfully responded Harry. 
 
 " Shake," invited George. 
 
 Harry shook hands with him and Terry. 
 
 " Now let's take Shep home. If he can't walk we'll 
 
A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 245 
 
 carry him. You other brothers had better put on your 
 clothes, hadn't you?" 
 
 "What'll we do with the panther?" demanded 
 Terry. " Cracky, but he's a big fellow. Must be the 
 husband of the one I shot last spring." 
 
 " His hide's no good, though," spoke George. " And 
 his head's smashed. Look where Shep chewed him, 
 too!" 
 
 They surveyed the lax, gory body of the panther. 
 
 "We'll haul him home," proposed Terry. "And 
 cut out his claws." 
 
 " Won't your mother be scared ? " 
 
 " We'll tell her not to look." 
 
 " All right," agreed Harry. " It's dinner time, any- 
 way. You hustle on your clothes, and I'll be cutting 
 a grape vine for a tow." 
 
 They hustled. When they got back, Harry already 
 had the panther carcass in leash. Shep refused to be 
 carried; probably it hurt his wounds. So Harry 
 dragged the panther, George bore the ax, Terry fol- 
 lowed ready to help Shep, and Shep hobbled, occa- 
 sionally shaking his sore ear, in the rear. 
 
 Thus they made for home: crossed the creek and 
 emerged from the timber and brush, into the hot prai- 
 rie when George exclaimed. 
 
 " Look at the smoke, yonder ! Prairie fire ! " 
 
 " Oh, thunder ! " gasped Terry. Up into the horizon 
 on the west had welled a hazy cloud, and the wind was 
 blowing straight from that direction. 
 
 " Great Caesar ! " mused Harry, who never got ex- 
 cited. " We ought to have ploughed a fire strip, on 
 
246 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 that side. But those hills never have burned over. 
 Maybe they'll stop it. Grass there is short." 
 
 " We can fight it with wet sacks and send it 'round 
 us, can't we ? " panted Terry, as they quickened their 
 pace. 
 
 " Then it'll go down to our place," asserted George. 
 " Maybe I ought to be getting home." 
 
 They hastened. The cabin was in plain sight, with 
 Mrs. Richards waiting for them. Now she came out, 
 and she, too, began to gaze at the cloud. Already 
 the sun was dimming. The cloud had wafted forward 
 with astonishing rapidity. 
 
 " Don't smell it yet, do you ? " queried Harry. 
 
 " Mighty funny looking cloud," said George. 
 " Looks like a snow storm. See it twinkle ? " 
 
 " A snow storm in August ! " scoffed Terry. " 'D 
 rather have that than a fire, though." 
 
 Yes, the sun was veiled, for the forward edge of the 
 cloud had reached to mid-sky, overhead. And a strange 
 cloud it was moving swiftly, with the wind, and shot 
 through with flashes and twinkles. Behind it was a 
 clear space and then another cloud, similar, following 
 fast. Even the cattle were standing with heads lifted, 
 curious, and the chickens and Pete the turkey were 
 running about and chattering. 
 
 All the sky was darkened, when towing the panther 
 they three, and Shep, arrived. 
 
 " What have you got now ? " greeted Mrs. Richards. 
 "Oh, goodness! Another panther! But have you 
 noticed the sky? Is that smoke, do you think? Is 
 there a fire?" 
 
A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 247 
 
 " Listen ! " bade George, excited. " Hear it crackle? 
 If you don't need me I'd better bee-line for home." 
 
 " I'm afraid," whimpered Virgie, all sticky with 
 honey. " I'm not afraid of the panther, but I'm afraid 
 of the sky. Will we be burned up ? " 
 
 " Look at the chickens ! " 
 
 " Ouch! " cried Terry. " It's hail. Something hit 
 me. Oh, Christmas ! There's another ! " 
 
 " Grasshoppers ! " fairly yelped Harry. " It's 
 a grasshopper cloud ! " 
 
 " For mercy-sakes-alive ! " uttered Mother Richards. 
 She threw her apron over her head and beat retreat to 
 the cabin. So did Virgie. The cloud was dropping 
 grasshoppers. By scores they fell plump! They 
 landed everywhere, striking hard against the cabin, 
 against the earth, against Terry and George and Harry, 
 against the animals, against whatever happened to be in 
 their path. Immediately they landed, they righted 
 themselves and crawled, to settle upon the first green 
 thing and eat. 
 
 The horses threw up their heads and snorted, stung 
 by the hurling bodies. Shep put his tail down and 
 bolted for shelter. The chickens and Pete ran wildly 
 about, swallowing the hoppers as fast as they could 
 grab. Birds were flocking descending from the cloud 
 with the falling insects: snapping them in mid-flight 
 and pecking them off the ground. 
 
 "That's what we heard their wings!" cried 
 George. " Their wings crackled ! Tisn't fire." 
 
 "Great Caesar's ghost!" gasped Harry. "They'll 
 eat no the whole ranch. We've got to help the chickens. 
 
248 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Never mind those on the ground. Tend to the 
 garden." 
 
 " Step on 'em ! Squash 'em ! " encouraged Terry ; 
 and for the garden they rushed. 
 
 Harry paused to seize a broom. He threshed about, 
 knocking the hoppers from the garden leaves, and 
 smashing them; George and Terry kicked and trod 
 and beat with sticks. It seemed a hopeless task, but 
 the cloud had passed, leaving only a small portion of 
 its swarm. 
 
 " There comes the other cloud," suddenly panted 
 George, as they worked. 
 
 " If that lands ! " groaned Harry. 
 
 They stared in dismay. The cloud was low much 
 lower than the preceding. The sound of the papery 
 wings drifted in advance, on the breeze. Sweeping 
 lower, and lower, it sped across the valley and in a 
 moment more it struck. Never was hailstorm thicker. 
 The three workers were blinded. They could not see. 
 The chickens, and Pete, already gorged, fluttered, yell- 
 ing, for cover. 
 
 " Run ! " gasped Terry. " Make for the cabin." 
 
 They dropped their tools and ran, shielding their 
 eyes. At every step they crunched hoppers ; the ground 
 was slippery with the creatures. Into the cabin they 
 fled. Those crawling, spiky legs on a fellow's neck 
 were not pleasant to feel. 
 
 Mrs. Richards and Virgie were exclaiming and clos- 
 ing the window shutters. 
 
 " They're coming right down the chimney ! " accused 
 
A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 249 
 
 Mother Richards. " And they'll eat everything. What 
 shall we do?" 
 
 Coming down the chimney they were! Crawling 
 over the floor! Squeezing in under the shutters! 
 Mother Richards and Virgie shook their skirts and 
 stamped. But this was not the worst. 
 
 "Just look outside," bade Harry. 
 
 From the door, opened a crack, they peered. Why, 
 the whole landscape was a-crawl! Hundreds 
 thousands millions of grasshoppers! They actually 
 covered the ground, and the buildings as well. 
 
 " Hear 'em eat ? " whispered George. And sure 
 enough, there was a steady sound like the crinkle of 
 tissue paper. The grasshoppers' jaws, cutting and 
 munching ! 
 
 " Well," sighed Harry, " there go our corn and 
 oats, not to speak of the garden." 
 
 " Will they eat panther ? " piped Virgie for the 
 panther body was a mass of them. 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder," answered Harry. 
 
 " Suppose they're as bad down at our place," faltered 
 George. " I'm sorry for you folks, though. Ought 
 to put that pony under cover," he added; and out he 
 ran, dodging and fighting and slipping. 
 
 The spotted pony on which little Virgie had ridden 
 over was tugging at his picket rope. The air by 
 this time was well cleared of the falling hoppers; 
 George grasped the picket rope, tore it loose and by 
 it led the pony to the corral actually waded in the 
 hoppers and in haste turned the pony loose. The 
 pony immediately headed in under the shed, where 
 
250 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 he shook himself and snorted. George scampered 
 back, leaving his own pony. 
 
 " They're eating the saddle, too, I guess," he said. 
 " But I can't help that. I'm not going out there again ! 
 The Indian pony doesn't act afraid, yet." 
 
 For three hours the grasshoppers stayed. There 
 was no use trying to have dinner too many grass- 
 hoppers in the cabin. Some even got into the honey, 
 much to Mother Richards' dismay. Then, shortly 
 after noon, as if by a signal the hoppers rose, and in 
 a dense mass flew away, leaving only a scattering of 
 stragglers. 
 
 They flew because there was nothing more here to 
 eat. What a sight presented itself, when a person 
 could venture out! The ground was absolutely bare. 
 The garden was eaten to the roots; the oats had dis- 
 appeared; the cornfield was only a stubble of short 
 stalks; the panther carcass had been stripped of hair 
 and considerable flesh; George's saddle was gnawed 
 and scraped, especially the flaps and horn, which were 
 salty with perspiration and the hoe handle and the 
 handles of the plow, salty also, were scored by the 
 hoppers' jaws ! Even the cabin roof had been reaped, 
 and the dried sun-flowers alone remained, to rattle 
 in the breeze. The spring trough was choked with 
 bodies, the barrel itself was all fouled, and somehow 
 the greedy creatures had penetrated into the dug-out 
 cellar and attacked the butter, not to speak of drowning 
 in the milk! 
 
 "What will we do?" murmured Terry's mother, 
 
A PLAGUE FROM THE SKIES 251 
 
 standing stockstill, and gazing around. " Everything 
 was looking so nice, and now " 
 
 Her voice broke. Tears were in her eyes. Terry 
 sprang for her, and put his arm around her. 
 
 " Don't you mind," he comforted. " You've got 
 Harry and me." 
 
 " And a cow and a calf," added Harry. " I should 
 say so! If we all of us together can't make a living 
 in a land of milk and honey not speaking of locusts 
 we don't deserve it." 
 
 " I'm awful sorry for you folks," repeated George, 
 lamely. " Maybe it's as bad at our place. I think 
 I'd better go down and see. Anyway, if we've got any- 
 thing you can use, you're welcome to it." 
 
 So he saddled up, and he and Virgie rode off to 
 investigate. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 NEWS FROM THE WEST 
 
 IT could not be otherwise than a sober little party 
 who sat down this afternoon to a late dinner. Terry 
 needs must glance out through the door, occasionally, 
 to make certain that he was not dreaming. Once he 
 had been much pleased, to glance out this way, and 
 see the waving corn, and hay, and oats, and the garden, 
 some of which he had put in by himself, and all of 
 which he had helped to put in. He had planned to 
 support his mother and to surprise his father. Now, 
 what was there to show, for his hard work. Almost 
 everything had disappeared, in a twinkling. The 
 ranch looked like a pretty poor sort of a place scrubb} 
 and uncared for; gone to the dogs or to the grass- 
 hoppers. 
 
 Still, Harry seemed to pluck up spirits. He was 
 that kind. Had it not been for Harry, the dinner 
 would not have had any taste. But Harry proceeded 
 to talk gaily. 
 
 "We're lucky, anyway, Mother Richards," he as- 
 serted. " Supposing Terry and I had the same ap- 
 petite those hoppers have! How would you ever 
 feed us? But as it is please pass the potatoes." 
 
 " I know," faltered Terry's mother, smiling wanly. 
 252 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 253 
 
 "We ought to be thankful that things are no worse. 
 A fire would have taken the house, and maybe the 
 horses and cattle, too." 
 
 " Yes, and all our provisions/' added Terry " We 
 can live on milk and honey, and I can go hunting for 
 meat." 
 
 " But what will we do this winter ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've got lots of schemes," informed Harry. 
 " We can gather up the hoppers and press them into 
 dry cakes and eat them the way the Indians do. Or 
 fry them in butter, the way people do in Arabia and 
 the Holy Land. Or preserve them in sugar, for des- 
 sert, instead of pie like the Chinese do. Or in honey ! 
 This evidently is a country of locusts and wild honey, 
 like the Bible mentions." 
 
 " No ! " protested Mother Richards. " I hope we 
 won't have to do all that! " 
 
 " Well, we can save them and trade them to the 
 chickens this winter for corn," continued Harry. 
 " And eat the corn. But worst hasn't come to worst, 
 yet. It never does. If those hoppers had front legs 
 as long as their hind legs they would have reached 
 down into the potato hills and pulled the potatoes out. 
 Now we have some potatoes left, anyway. After 
 dinner we'll take an inventory, and I believe we'll 
 find that we're a heap better off than if we had noth- 
 ing." 
 
 Mother Richards stayed at the cabin to clean things 
 up, and nurse Shep (who was too sore and tired to 
 move), while her two men trudged out to make their 
 survey of the ranch. 
 
254 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 The garden, which was first at hand, indeed pre- 
 sented a sorry sight, eaten off to the very roots. The 
 cabbages were riddled; the tender summer squashes 
 were gnawed ; string beans hung in shreds ; radish tops 
 and onion tops alike had proved tasty and where 
 onions and beets and such things had been exposed in 
 the soil, those grasshoppers had bored right into them. 
 However, as Harry had said, the potatoes lay too 
 deep; and although they yet were small, still there'd 
 be enough for many a mess. 
 
 The oats were but little superior to the garden. The 
 leaves had been stripped from the stalks, and the 
 tender portions of the stalks eaten off so that the 
 majority of the oat heads were lying on the ground. 
 Harry scanned, and scratched his nose. 
 
 " We'll have to reap our oat crop with a garden 
 rake, I guess. Anyway, it isn't a total loss. The 
 hoppers omitted to bring sacks with them, to carry off 
 the heads. And we have the straw, too." 
 
 The hay field was, as Harry expressed it, " only 
 freckled." That is, the fresh, greener grasses had been 
 devoured, and the ripe grasses and hard weeds were 
 left, making curious brownish patches. 
 
 Harry scratched his nose. 
 
 " Half a crop, here," he declared, confidently. " Or, 
 to be honest, a quarter of a crop, and poor stuff at that. 
 But it's worth cutting. 
 
 Oh, the corn field ! That had fared the worst. The 
 grasshoppers evidently were extremely fond of corn 
 both sweet corn and field corn. 
 
 " Shucks ! " exclaimed Harry. " I wish we had." 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 255 
 
 "Had what?" 
 
 " Shucked it before instead of standing here ' shuck- 
 ing ' it now. But it wasn't quite ready." 
 
 The stalks were left, standing straight and bare. 
 Bare, too, were the ears, hanging, or fallen to the 
 ground; all with their green husks devoured, the ten- 
 derer ears gnawed clean to the cob, and the other ears 
 gouged and disfigured. 
 
 " More fodder, served plain, nothing fancy," sighed 
 Harry. " Well, the cattle aren't going to suffer this 
 winter, and we sha'n't, either. Those hoppers missed 
 a few things; they were in too big a hurry. They 
 missed our timber. I always said that timber was our 
 savings bank. We'll put in our hard licks there, and 
 draw out rails and shingles. Let's go back and tell 
 Mother Richards about it." 
 
 What an encouraging fellow Harry was! 
 
 The chickens and Pete the turkey were out again, 
 busily picking up more grasshoppers, although stuffed 
 to bursting. The horses and the yellow mule were 
 grazing once more, on the short wiry grass that the 
 hoppers had declined. The cow, now as gentle as any 
 cow, had arrived at the corral gate, to get her even- 
 ing lick of salt, and be milked, and put away for the 
 night. The buffalo calf, long since weaned, was hav- 
 ing a friendly bunting duel with Buck the ox, while 
 Spot, the other ox, placidly refereed. Terry's mother, 
 having cleaned house, was waiting in the doorway, for 
 her two " boys " to return. And altogether the ranch 
 seemed quite cheery. From the corner where he was 
 recovering Shep even wagged his tail. 
 
256 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 For the time being the panther carcass had been 
 forgotten; but there it lay, a hideous sight, and must 
 be disposed of. So they did not delay to cut out its 
 claws, but buried it at once. There were matters 
 of more importance, now, than panther claws. 
 
 That evening, after chores, they three took stock, 
 and discussed ways and means. 
 
 " Let's see," proposed Harry, checking on his fingers. 
 " We can't count on our crops ; that's certain. 
 Haven't much more than enough for ourselves. Could 
 spare some hay, but that coarse stuff would scarcely 
 pay for the hauling. Anyway, the government won't 
 want it. I reckon we'll have a few potatoes, but they're 
 small and won't measure up. That cuts down the 
 bushels. The corn doesn't amount to shucks, because 
 there aren't any shucks; but there's enough for the 
 chickens and animals, and maybe for a pinch of meal 
 two pinches. How much honey have we, mother ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," confessed Mother Richards. 
 "It's sitting all over the place. What will we do with 
 it?" 
 
 " Trade it in," cried Harry. " We'll strain it and 
 take it to market and the comb is good wax." 
 
 " But I haven't any jars ; not enough, that is." 
 
 " Huh ! That's so." And Harry scratched his nose. 
 "Well, any butter ready?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ! " proudly asserted Mother Richards. 
 " A batch all ready." 
 
 " Good. We'll trade the butter for jars; and we'll 
 fill the jars and trade back again for something else. 
 That's a starter. Right away in the morning Terry 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 257 
 
 can go down to Manhattan and deposit the butter and 
 get the jars. Then he can ride around by Riley and 
 tell them we can't fill our hay contract, but we stand 
 ready to deliver rails and fuel and anything else they'll 
 take from the timber patch. I'll hustle and clear out 
 the corn field before the squirrels get what's left, and 
 we'll sow wheat. Won't need plowing again we can 
 harrow it in and I shouldn't wonder if we got a pretty 
 good stand. Wheat doesn't mind cold weather. We'll 
 try potatoes again, too. And if I can get hold of any 
 rye we'll sow the oat field to that, after a bit, and get a 
 spring crop, at least." 
 
 In fact, Harry was full of plans, and when he and 
 Terry climbed up to bed in the loft, the future looked 
 rosy again. 
 
 " Ask the Stantons if they don't want some of this 
 honey," called Terry's mother, after him as he rode 
 away early in the morning, bearing the butter to Man- 
 hattan. " Part of it belongs to them, you know. 
 George helped you get it." 
 
 Shep was too lame to come along. He was well 
 content to stay quietly at home and lick his wounds. 
 His ear did not seem to be broken, but it never did 
 stand straight again. He always was a lop-eared dog, 
 following his panther fight ; but the ear was an honor- 
 able token, far superior, in the Brotherhood, to any 
 snake rattles. 
 
 Harry had sallied with the mare and the mule and 
 wagon to the corn field, whistling as he went. So 
 Terry rode off alone. 
 
 The havoc wrought by the grasshoppers extended 
 
258 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 right on down to the Stanton place, so it was evident 
 that the Stantons had suffered, too. The trail and the 
 prairie sod were still thick with the hopping creatures, 
 on which many birds were feeding; and when Terry 
 entered the Stanton yard George met him with rueful 
 face. 
 
 " They cleaned us up as bad as they cleaned you," he 
 reported. " We're going to put in our crops over again. 
 And they're laying eggs, pop says, 'way under ground, 
 so we'll have more hoppers next year. That's a great 
 note, isn't it! Two or three years ago there was an- 
 other big flight, old settlers tell." 
 
 " Ma wants to know if you folks wouldn't like some 
 honey," informed Terry. " Part of what we've got is 
 yours, anyway." 
 
 " I guess we would," answered George. " I'll ask. 
 Eating's liable to be mighty scarce, in these parts, after 
 that grasshopper storm. Glad it wasn't a prairie fire, 
 though." 
 
 " I should say," agreed Terry. " That would have 
 taken the timber and all." 
 
 " Where you going? " 
 
 " Down to Manhattan and Riley, to trade butter in 
 and I've got some eggs, too. We count on trading 
 our honey in, after we get jars for it." 
 
 "Good work," complimented George. "It'll take 
 more than grasshoppers to wipe out us Kansas settlers 
 and the hoppers will make the chickens fat! Ours 
 are about busting." 
 
 " So are ours," replied Terry. " Well, I've got to 
 go. Lots of business." 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 259 
 
 "That's right. But if you meet Thunder Horse 
 you'd better not waste your eggs." 
 
 '* I'm saving two bad ones for him," laughed Terry. 
 
 However, he did not meet any Thunder Horse, this 
 time. Thunder Horse probably was fighting shy of a 
 locality that might be dangerous for him after his 
 kidnapping. 
 
 He did not meet any Thunder Horse, but he met 
 plenty of the grasshoppers. The swarm had extended 
 south for about seven miles, eating the leaves from the 
 bushes and trees where they had found nothing better. 
 More of them seemed to have remained here than 
 further north. A great many of those in sight on the 
 ground had dug round holes with their hinder ends, 
 and were sitting motionless and half buried, laying 
 their eggs. Ugh ! Supposing that there were a million 
 hoppers, and each laid fifty eggs, then next year there'd 
 be fifty million more; and if half of these each laid 
 fifty eggs, the next year there'd be a billion and a 
 quarter; and if half of these each laid fifty eggs 
 whew! 
 
 Down the valley as far as the grasshoppers had ex- 
 tended, all the ranchers appeared to be busy, salvaging 
 their riddled crops and preparing to make a fresh start. 
 They struck Terry as being a remarkably brave people 
 these immigrant settlers in the new West; and he 
 felt proud to be one of them. For were not he and 
 his mother and Harry doing the same? 
 
 On a sudden the grasshopper belt ceased, and he rode 
 through a prospering country again, where on the 
 farms the corn and other grain were waving or already 
 
2<5o THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 shocked, and the hay was being cut and stacked, just 
 as should have been the case on his own farm. The 
 few pounds of butter and the several dozen eggs that 
 he was bringing from those 160 broad acres seemed 
 rather picayune; but, anyway, they were something, 
 and a lot better than nothing. 
 
 Another horseman was cantering across the valley, 
 making for the trail south. As he and Terry drew to- 
 gether, he looked more and more familiar. Sol Judy ! 
 Hurrah! Terry quickened his colt, and waved his 
 hand. Sol waved back and slackened. They met. 
 
 "Howdy?" 
 
 " Howdy yourself, boy. Where you heading? Did 
 the hoppers drive you out ? " 
 
 "Not yet," asserted Terry. "And they won't, 
 either. But I'm going down to Manhattan to do some 
 trading." 
 
 " Bueno (good) ! We'll ride together. I like your 
 spunk. How's the damage up your way? " 
 
 "Well, they tried to eat us up," confessed Terry. 
 " We're going right along, though. Have you been up 
 around there ? Did you ever see so many grasshoppers 
 before. Do they come every year ? " 
 
 " Not every year." And Sol laughed. " All depends 
 on the wind and weather, so I hear. Seems like these 
 things start in the spring from the Rocky Mountains 
 yonder. Anyhow, that's where they're seen earliest. 
 The summer winds there and on the plains are mostly 
 from west and nor' west, and if there's been a warm dry 
 spring, and a big hatch, as soon as the young have 
 crawled about and eaten everything and have got wings, 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 261 
 
 they rise up and sail along with the wind, for pastures 
 greener. That lands some of 'em hereabouts." 
 
 " But it doesn't leave any behind, to come again, does 
 it? " queried Terry, hopeful. " And if we can kill all 
 these eggs- 
 
 " Trouble is," said Sol, " on east of here the summer 
 winds are mainly from the sou'-east. So when the 
 pesky things get out into Missouri they're likely to sail 
 back again, high up, on a cross current, and mebbe 
 get where they came from, to start in over again. Of 
 course, I don't know. But I've seen swarms traveling 
 west, in early summer, and I've seen swarms traveling 
 east, in later summer. Curious critters. But they make 
 the turkeys fat and the country lean. If they get to 
 be a regular pest, some way will be found to kill them 
 out. This is too rich a country to be given over to 
 grasshoppers. How's the colt doing? " And Sol eyed 
 it with critical gaze. 
 
 " He's fine. Took me hunting with the Delawares, 
 and I brought back a milk cow and a calf that looks like 
 a buffalo." 
 
 " You don't say ! A cross between cow and buffalo, 
 eh? Bull calf?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. He's tame now." 
 
 " Well, they do say these crosses make good animals 
 stand more than a domestic and can live where a 
 domestic can't. You want to hang on to him and train 
 him for the yoke." 
 
 " Guess we will," responded Terry. " We've got 
 plenty of milk, anyway ; and butter, and honey from a 
 bee tree. I'm going down to trade some butter, now. 
 
262 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Then I'm going on up to the fort and see if they don't 
 want our timber. The grasshoppers didn't eat that." 
 
 " You're the right stuff," approved Sol. " Timber 
 means money, in these parts." 
 
 About noon they rode into Manhattan. A crowd had 
 collected before the general store where Terry usually 
 did his trading and buying. They had surrounded 
 several men as a center, and were excitedly discussing 
 and peering. With quick eye, Sol conjectured the 
 cause. 
 
 " Gold seekers, by crackity ! " he exclaimed, and 
 spurred forward. 
 
 Terry followed. From their saddles they could look 
 over the heads of the crowd, and could see the little 
 group in the center. There were two men, shaggy- 
 haired and unshaven and ragged, as if they had just 
 arrived in civilization, from some western wilds. 
 
 Sol hastily dismounted. 
 
 "What's the trouble?" he asked, of a bystander, 
 while tying his horse. 
 
 " Some of those gold-seekers back, who went out to 
 the mountains last spring ? " 
 
 "What'd they fetch?" 
 
 The man laughed. 
 
 " Mainly themselves, and lucky to do that. Like- 
 wise some tall stories, which I for one don't swallow." 
 
 " Didn't they find any gold ? " 
 
 " Wall, I ain't seen any of it, yet." 
 
 " Come on," bade Sol, to Terry. " Let's investigate." 
 With Terry, also on foot, close following, he pushed 
 through to the inside of the crowd. 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 263 
 
 One of the two men had a heavy, russet, dusty full 
 beard extending to his eye-brows. The other man was 
 younger and slighter, but also bearded. Their clothing 
 including boots, was patched roughly, and they looked 
 as if they had had a hard time. Big revolvers were 
 belted at their waists but this was nothing out of 
 the ordinary. 
 
 The russet-bearded elder man was talking. 
 
 " Gold ? Certain there's gold. Everybody's finding 
 it. I reckon there's near a hundred people searching, 
 and more are coming in. It's going to be the richest 
 place on the face of the earth. Has the California 
 gold fields beaten out of sight. You take that Cherry 
 Creek, where the Green Russell party are located, and 
 you can wash out the yellow with every shake of the 
 pan. I hear tell the party from Lawrence that followed 
 out after the Green Russell party have gone in further 
 back and are digging the gold with picks. Of course, 
 the higher up you get the more gold there is, and if a 
 fellow'd only get up atop of Pike's Peak he could roll 
 the chunks down. From our camp we could see it 
 shining, high aloft, when the sun struck it right. Ain't 
 that so, Tod?" 
 
 "You're right," concurred the younger man, nod- 
 ding. 
 
 " What ! Solid gold ? " demanded one in the excit- 
 able crowd. 
 
 " 'Pears like it. I wouldn't say less." 
 
 "Did you get any of it?" 
 
 " Not exactly, to speak of. But we've located right 
 at the mountain foot." 
 
264 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " You say there's gold lower down, though ? " 
 
 " Plenty of it. They're washing it out everywhere. 
 That whole Pike's Peak country of west Kansas is full 
 of gold." 
 
 Here Sol put in. 
 
 " It is! What'd you pull out, for, then? " he asked. 
 
 " To spread the news and get stocked up with what 
 we need/' 
 
 " Suppose you brought some of that gold out with 
 you." 
 
 The man hesitated. 
 
 " Well, we did," he asserted. 
 
 " I'd be powerfully obliged for a look at it, stranger," 
 invited Sol. 
 
 " All right." The man fished into his trousers pocket, 
 and extracted a small chunk of rock. "What do 
 you think of that, then Pike's Peak rock? " 
 
 A murmur spread through the crowd, and Terry 
 caught his breath. The chunk sparkled and glinted 
 with yellow. Sol had taken it and was examining it 
 wet it with his tongue, and presently scratched it with 
 his knife point. 
 
 " Much of that? " he inquired. 
 
 " Tons." 
 
 " And all together not worth the powder to blow it 
 up with," declared Sol, carelessly handing the sample 
 back. " You can't fool an old Calif orny miner. That's 
 nothing but what we call iron pyrites ' fool's gold '. 
 It's too hard for gold; one scratch of a knife point 
 would show you that. And it's too brassy in color. 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 265 
 
 If that's your color, I wouldn't trade you an acre of 
 Kansas land for your whole mountain." 
 
 " Show him what you've got, Tod," directed the 
 man, in unbelieving manner pocketing the chunk. And 
 it was plain to be seen that the crowd were not disposed 
 to believe Sol, either. 
 
 From a little pocket sewed inside his boot-top the 
 younger man drew a small article, and passed it over. 
 It was a piece of goose-quill, about two inches long; 
 might once have been part of a pen; or if not a goose- 
 quill, then a quill from some other large bird. But it 
 was yellow. No, it was filled with yellow, showing 
 through the walls. The crowd craned their necks, to 
 see. 
 
 Sol turned it about, looked at the ends, stoppered 
 with plugs, and held it up to the light. 
 
 " That," he pronounced, " is more like it. Flake 
 gold, but too light to be much account. I've seen better 
 than that by the peck measure full. What else you got 
 to show ? " And he handed back the quill. 
 
 " What else ! Isn't that enough ? " retorted the elder 
 man. 
 
 "Why," answered Sol, "after all your talk you 
 haven't enough gold to pay for a week's board ! " And 
 he indignantly elbowed his way out again. Terry, al- 
 though he wanted to stay a while longer and hear more, 
 followed. 
 
 " There may be gold yonder, in what they call the 
 Pike's Peak country," observed Sol, " but those fellows 
 don't prove it. They've come back broke, but won't 
 admit it." 
 
266 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " I wish I'd asked them about my father," said 
 Terry, with sudden idea. " Or about that Mr. Jones, 
 I mean." 
 
 " That's right," exclaimed Sol, halting. " We will. 
 They did mention the Gieen Russell party, didn't they 1 
 Wait a minute." 
 
 The crowd were dispersing, as if to go to dinner, and 
 the two gold seekers were left almost alone. With 
 Terry, Sol went hastily back. 
 
 " One minute," he hailed. " You dropped a word as 
 to the Green Russell party. Whereabouts are they ? " 
 
 " They were panning on a bar in the Platte River, 
 when we left," replied, rather sullenly, the elder man. 
 " Washing out about ten dollars a day to a man." 
 
 " The party'd split up considerably," added the 
 younger man. " Some of them came down to the Soda 
 Springs, our way." 
 
 " Didn't meet up with a man by name of Jones, did 
 you ? He went out from Manhattan with Russell, last 
 spring." 
 
 " Jones ? Yes, sir, there was a man who called him- 
 self by name of Jones. A man with brown whiskers 
 and a white patch in his hair some sort of scar." 
 
 " Is he coming back, too ? " demanded Terry, eagerly. 
 "Has he struck it rich?" 
 
 " Can't say, sonny. He was prospecting 'round, like 
 the rest. Any relation of yours ? " 
 
 " I don't know," faltered Terry. 
 
 " Well, however that may be, he's a queer one. 
 Seems as though what had hurt him on the head had 
 hurt his mind. Never did hear him say where he was 
 
NEWS FROM THE WEST 267 
 
 from, in the States; but his head used to bother him 
 every now and again, and he'd sort of forget what he 
 was up to, till the spell was over. So he's liable to 
 leave, or he's liable to stay. We're the first out, and 
 more will follow." 
 
 " He was well and hearty, except for his head, was 
 he, when you last saw him? " queried Sol. 
 
 " Yes, sir. And I don't say that he isn't smart, 
 either. You or anybody else can rest easy on those 
 
 scores." 
 
 " That news," quoth Sol, to Terry, as they walked 
 away, " beats the gold, eh ? Little by little we'll catch 
 up with him." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 TACKLING THE TIMBER 
 
 WHEN after dinner and his " shopping " at the 
 general store Terry rode out for Fort Riley, he rode 
 with a lighter heart. That Mr. Jones was his father 
 he no longer had the slightest doubt. And Sol had 
 agreed. Here was a man who had been hurt on the 
 head, and had forgotten himself and had wandered off, 
 and now sometimes acted queer, as if trying to remem- 
 ber. These two other men had seen him; except for 
 his head trouble he was " well and hearty," they had 
 assured. So he had arrived safely at the mountains, 
 and was looking for the gold. 
 
 That in itself was comforting news. Maybe he 
 would return this very summer The gold seekers were 
 beginning to return. Maybe he would come home in his 
 own mind, with a sack of gold. At any rate, Sol had 
 engaged to keep watch of the travel from the west, 
 through Manhattan. Whether he came in his right 
 mind or not, with gold or without, he would be given 
 a big welcome and would find his hat waiting fof him, 
 at the ranch. 
 
 Perhaps, then, they all would go out to the gold 
 fields; especially if his father had discovered a mine! 
 
 268 
 
TACKLING THE TIMBER 269 
 
 Those two men had said that there was gold for every- 
 body. Of course, they hadn't brought back much 
 only a quill full and Sol was skeptical; but the quill 
 full was some proof, and Terry was certain that his 
 father would find gold if anybody could. 
 
 First, the ranch must be put in shape, to surprise him 
 on his return. They could not sit around, waiting, and 
 depending on gold. No, sir ; they must go right ahead 
 and work hard. 
 
 At the fort Captain Steuart seemed truly sorry when 
 he heard about the grasshoppers and the damage they 
 had wrought. He readily promised to take all the 
 cord wood that could be hauled, and some long rails 
 for corrals and fencing. That was good. Lieutenant 
 Arnold was not at the post ; he was out on a scout ; but 
 Sergeant Murphy was here, and he and Mrs. Murphy 
 invited Terry to supper and stowed him for the night. 
 Before noon of the next morning he was home again, 
 to report upon all that had happened on his trip. 
 
 His mother and Harry voted that a successful trip 
 had it been. They were immensely excited to 
 hear the latest news of the mysterious " Mr. Jones " 
 (who, they also agreed, could be none other but Father 
 Richards), and to know that at last account he was 
 alive and well, and maybe finding gold. However, 
 Terry's mother was less interested in the gold, even the 
 quill of gold, than she was in the rest of the report. 
 And Harry paid less attention to the gold than he did 
 to the prospect that they would sell their wood and 
 rails. 
 
 " We must get busy right away ! " declared Mother 
 
270 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Richards as if they had not always been busy. 
 " When your father comes I want him to find us 
 prospering again. It will mean so much to him, to 
 know that we haven't suffered any because of his 
 absence except, of course, we've missed him." 
 
 " First we'll finish putting in fresh crops. Then 
 we'll tackle that timber, Terry," asserted Harry. " It'll 
 be a tough job, too, but who cares? Swinging an ax 
 is good for the back." 
 
 " I know I can depend on my two men," encouraged 
 Mother Richards, gratefully. " And this very after- 
 noon I'll fill those jars with honey, so we can send it to 
 town at the first opportunity." 
 
 Harry already had gathered most of the corn from 
 the corn field, and had heaped it in a pile near the 
 house, where the cattle could be kept away from it. 
 Some of it was pretty good, and much of it was pretty 
 poor; but there'd be enough for feed, and they could 
 burn the poor stuff in the stove. He had thrown the 
 wagon cover over it, for the present ; but a crib would 
 have to be built, to keep it off the ground, as soon as 
 they had rails enough. 
 
 After dinner he and Terry dragged the corn field, 
 with the mare and the yellow mule, and sowed wheat 
 broadcast and harrowed it in with the oxen. And a 
 busy afternoon for all hands this was. 
 
 The next day they cleaned up the garden, rescuing 
 what portion of it they could. When they had dug up 
 the potatoes, and stored them in the outside cellar until 
 it would hold no more, they had about a wagon load 
 left over, to sell. This was better than might have been 
 
TACKLING THE TIMBER 271 
 
 expected. They were small potatoes, but sound and 
 well flavored, although a little green. 
 
 Harry took the mare and the mule and the wagon, 
 and drove off with the potatoes and the honey, to town, 
 on a two days' trip. He left Terry to clear the oat 
 field, in case they'd want to replant it. And besides, 
 the oat heads and stalks would be useful as feed. So 
 for two days Terry worked with scythe and rake 
 changing from one to the other, as a rest, you know. 
 One of those new-fangled mowers drawn by horses 
 would have done the job in a jiffy, and he wondered 
 if they could not borrow some kind of a machine, for 
 the hay. This scythe-swinging was awfully hard work. 
 
 But Harry returned enthusiastic, with supplies which 
 included rye enough to sow part of the oat field, and 
 with some seed potatoes. They put in the rye and the 
 potatoes, and attacked the hay. Had to cut it and rake 
 it and stack it by hand. Rumor said that down the 
 valley some of the settlers possessed newly invented 
 mowers, and even horse rakes ; but up here in the later 
 settled country there was none to be had, and the hay 
 would not wait. 
 
 However, as a result of the steady grinding work, by 
 September the ranch made quite a showing. No matter 
 that the crops were short, and of poor quality, there 
 they were, gathered. From the cabin door anybody 
 could look and see the oat stack, and the hay stacks, 
 and the heap of corn, and the potato plants above 
 ground, and the new rye and wheat greening each a 
 large patch and Terry, for one, felt proud. He and 
 Harry were lean and hard, their hands were brown on 
 
272 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 the backs and calloused on the palms, but they had 
 achieved well and were ready for the next task. 
 
 Should father come at any time now, he would find 
 the crops gathered and showing up ; the two oxen, the 
 mare, the colt grown into a useful horse, a cow and a 
 half-buffalo calf, a yellow mule, many more chickens, 
 a turkey; and three people (or four, rather, counting 
 Shep, who was lively again) ready to welcome him. 
 
 The next real task was in the timber. They did not 
 get at this until the middle of September, for there had 
 been another trip or so to town, with butter and eggs 
 and more honey; the very necessary building of the 
 corn crib out of some lumber from an abandoned claim 
 (whose tenants had been frightened away by the grass- 
 hoppers ) , to protect the corn against the Fall rains ; and 
 the regular chores, and constant odd jobs that could not 
 be delayed. 
 
 The Stantons were fully as busy, although evenings, 
 once in a while, and on Sundays, the two families 
 managed to see one another. But the after-supper 
 school was given up, for the present ; Terry and George 
 both were too dog tired, as a rule, to put much energy 
 on spelling, arithmetic and geography. 
 
 Harry was very anxious to tackle the timber, so as 
 to build rail fences around the stacks and the grain 
 fields before the cattle (not omitting deer and antelope) 
 began to invade, tempted away from the withering 
 grasses. And he wanted shingles, also, for the cabin 
 and perhaps the dugout cellar. 
 
 " Never split rails, did you? " he asked, of Terry 
 with a little smile. 
 
TACKLING THE TIMBER 273 
 
 " Never did," admitted Terry. 
 
 " Then you'll have a great chance to learn," laughed 
 Harry. " So will George. He's coming over to- 
 morrow with an ax and all the muscle he can bring, 
 and we're got an engagement in the timber." 
 
 The engagement which opened on the morrow 
 proved to be a long one Cutting the timber and split- 
 ting the rails was slow, slow work, particularly at first 
 while Terry and George were getting the hang of it. 
 The Stantons contributed George and the ax, for a 
 share in the " crop " ; and anyway, the timber on the 
 Richards' place was much better than that on their 
 own. 
 
 Harry felled the trees, selecting the straightest and 
 tallest of the oaks and black walnuts. For a chap who 
 was lame and did not look to be especially strong, he 
 had a great knack at chopping. He stood back, in the 
 clear, so that he could just reach the middle of the trunk 
 with his ax blade; and having thus measured, with a 
 free-arm swing of the ax over his head he brought 
 it down, at an angle thwack ! It landed exactly where 
 the edge had rested a moment before, and was buried 
 slant-wise nearly to the butt, shoulder high in the tree. 
 Two or three times more he sunk the ax head in the 
 same place. Then with more of a side swing he landed 
 the blade almost straight in, two or three feet below 
 the first cut. A couple more strokes there, while the 
 splinters flew, and out popped a large, wedge-shaped 
 chip, leaving a gouge as clean as a whistle. The chips 
 came out gradually smaller as the gouge deepened; 
 and having cut nearly half through on this side, Harry 
 
274 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 stepped around and began to cut out chips on the 
 opposite side. Before he had got half way through, 
 here, the fibers broke and crackled, the tree swayed, 
 leaned, and crashed down, to the side where he had 
 started in. 
 
 " You're a boss chopper," praised George. For the 
 top of the stump was as smooth as if chiseled, except 
 where a spike of broken wood stood in the middle. 
 
 "Well, I didn't chew it up much, that's a fact," 
 acknowledged Harry, surveying the stump with some 
 satisfaction. " I hate a ragged stump. It means 
 wasted strokes and lost motion. I like to make every 
 stroke count each following where the other quit. 
 That's one secret of falling a tree. And another secret 
 is making your chips big to begin with, for if you don't 
 start with a good-sized cut, before you get in very far 
 you'll not have room enough and will jam your ax. 
 Of course, that depends on how thick the trunk is. The 
 thicker the trunk, the bigger the cut to begin with. A 
 three-foot chip for a four-foot trunk is a safe plan." 
 
 " Jiminy ! Wish I could fall a tree in a hurry, like 
 that," quoth George, admiringly. " Doesn't look hard, 
 either. You aren't even puffing." 
 
 "Expect I will be puffing, though, before we're 
 through," laughed Harry. " Two men to a tree, one 
 chopping right handed and one left handed, is the 
 proper caper. Two good men ought to fall a five- foot 
 tree in half an hour." 
 
 " You hold your ax clear at the end of the handle, 
 don't you ! " proffered Terry. " And you hit in the 
 same places whenever you want to." 
 
TACKLING THE TIMBER 
 
 275 
 
 " Try to, anyway. Start the argument and drive 
 it home. Yes, a fellow gets a better swing and more 
 force with less effort if he holds the ax by the end of 
 the handle. That's what the knob on the end is for 
 to give him a grip so the handle won't slip. You 
 don't need to hold so very tight got to have an easy 
 grip, is all and if the ax is rightly balanced you can 
 bring it down with your shoulders and back so it will 
 sink out of sight. You slant it in, more or less, at every 
 stroke, so it won't stick. But you want to watch out 
 that it doesn't glance and cut a leg off. That's about 
 all I was taught; to save your muscle as much as you 
 can and make the ax do the work. Some axes are 
 better balanced than others. This is a pretty good one." 
 
 " Did you mean to have this tree land there on that 
 spot, like you did the bee tree ? " queried George. " I 
 guess you did. We saw you sort of scouting and plan- 
 ning." 
 
 " A scientific ax-man can lay a tree so it will drive 
 a peg with its trunk," asserted Harry. He scratched 
 his nose, reflectively. " But an ordinary chopper's got 
 to be content with not driving himself instead of the 
 peg, or hanging his tree up in another tree. You 
 usually start the first cut in the tree on the side where 
 you expect it to fall. That makes it lean more or less, 
 and you'll be finishing on the side where it won't fall. 
 If it leans in that direction in the beginning, that's 
 where it will fall anyway, unless it bounces sideways, 
 from another tree. Some ax-men figure on the bounce 
 and will land a tree just about wherever you tell them 
 to. And by cutting a quarter way 'round, extending 
 
276 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 the first cut, they'll swing it, and land it. I've seen 
 men who can handle a big tree like a fishing pole. 
 But what I'm always afraid of is a kick-up, when the 
 cut doesn't break true, and a branch strikes the ground 
 unexpectedly and bounces the butt. Then a fellow has 
 to take his chances to get out of the way in a hurry. 
 But you're here to split rails, aren't you? I'll log this 
 tree for you and you can start in." 
 
 He quickly lopped off some of the branches so that 
 the trunk settled securely; and pacing three paces and 
 a half pace from the butt stood upon the trunk there 
 and chopped between his feet. Again the chips flew. 
 He plied the ax until with a final stroke he had severed 
 the trunk into a ten foot length. 
 
 Now the ten foot log was to be split into rails. Harry 
 sank his ax blade into the end, on top, and into the 
 cleft drove an iron wedge, pounding it home with the 
 maul or sledge which had been brought from the house. 
 As the log began to crack, he followed the crack with 
 his ax, cutting the tough cross splinters. Soon the 
 crack was wide enough so that he could move the 
 wedge farther along. Then he handed the job over to 
 the boys. 
 
 Terry took the wedge and maul, George handled the 
 ax; and before Harry had felled another tree the log 
 had been split open and the halves were being sub- 
 divided into rails, by the same process. 
 
 They got six rails out of this log, which was good for 
 the first attempt. They were tremendously heavy rails, 
 four rather too thick, with two rather too thin ; and on 
 the whole represented small results from an hour and 
 
TACKLING THE TIMBER 277 
 
 a half 's work. Terry figured that at this rate Christmas 
 would come before there were rails enough for one 
 fence. 
 
 Harry paused to explain that two persons clever with 
 axes would do quicker work by dispensing with the 
 wedge and maul, and splitting the rails with the axes 
 alone chopping a straight line, down the grain, each 
 ax alternately freeing the other by opening the crack 
 just ahead of it. But this took a keen eye and much 
 care, lest the ax glance. 
 
 Thus they toiled all day : Harry felling and logging 
 the trees, the boys splitting the logs into rails. What 
 with incessantly pounding and chopping, and dragging 
 the rails aside out of the way, and raising huge blisters 
 and getting splinters in their hands (and a fellow had 
 to be mighty cautious not to let the crack close on his 
 fingers while extracting the wedge or slipping and 
 falling), by evening and chore time they all were dead 
 tired. However, they had about a wagon load of the 
 heavy green rails, waiting to be hauled. And such a 
 quantity, already, of fire wood: the chips, scattered 
 about, and the tops of the felled trees, and the waste 
 from the logs ! Would the work, begun, ever be done ! 
 
 But Harry was a wonder. The size of the task 
 seemed not to appal him in the least. Morning after 
 morning he bounced out of bed before full sun rise, 
 threw his pillow at Terry and teased him until he fol- 
 lowed ; they jumped into the chores ; and directly after 
 breakfast trudged away for the timber, Shep accom- 
 panying. When George could not come over, they 
 
278 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 managed to do without him. And day after day the 
 piles of rails increased in number. 
 
 They did not wait to season the rails, for fencing; 
 but with the ox team hauled them from the timber and 
 distributed them one by one. They crossed short rails, 
 scissors shape, or like an ' X ', setting them on end over 
 a large chunk ; thrust a rail through, half its length, be- 
 tween the chunk and the lower angle, and laid the end 
 of another rail in the upper angle. Thus the ' X ' was 
 braced and could not close. The other ends of the rails 
 rested on the ground, so that the rails slanted upward, 
 in a series, with ' X's ' every five feet, to support the 
 middle of one rail and the end of another. This was a 
 buck fence, rapidly thrown up. 
 
 George, and now and then his father, helped; and 
 when Mr. Stanton hauled rails for himself, Harry and 
 Terry took a day off from the timber and helped him. 
 
 The rails were not the only product of the timber. 
 The felled trunks were logged into six-foot lengths, 
 and split into cord-wood, for the fort. And there 
 were the shingles, or shakes. 
 
 To make shingles it was necessary to cut the 
 straightest-grained logs into chunks about fourteen 
 inches long, and peel the bark off. Then the chunk was 
 quartered, with the grain, through the middle; and 
 from the widest faces of the quarters thin slabs were 
 split. 
 
 Harry traded some rails for clapboarding (although 
 he could have made rough clapboards, like rails were 
 split), and he and Terry shingled the cabin and the 
 cellar ; tacked strips from end to end, across the shingle 
 
TACKLING THE TIMBER 279 
 
 butts, to hold them in place; tacked the strips with 
 wooden spikes, or treenails, to save the cost of iron 
 nails. And while the job was not very fancy, when 
 finished, the roof proved perfectly weather proof. 
 
 The weather held constantly fine. A goodly supply 
 of fire wood was piled against the cabin, and plenty 
 more remained in the timber. Rails and cordwood 
 were easily sold or traded, down the valley, and in town 
 and at the post, whenever Harry or Terry was ready to 
 haul a load out, with the mare and mule or with ox 
 team. The nights grew crisp, but aided by the warm 
 sunny days and the occasional, welcomed rains the 
 potatoes and the grain thrived apace. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 
 
 WHAT a wonderfully fine Fall this proved to be! 
 The timber yielded not only an abundance of rails and 
 shingles and fuel, but also hickory nuts and walnuts, 
 wild plums and grapes, and now and then a fat turkey. 
 After a week of frequent rain, the weather settled into 
 a long Indian Summer, of clear nights and still, sunny 
 days during which the grain ripened amazingly. All 
 through the valley the ranchers were harvesting in 
 haste, to make sure of these their second crops before 
 the first snow arrived to crush the slender stalks. 
 
 A thresher traveled from place to place ; and by the 
 time that it appeared at the Richards* ranch Harry 
 and Terry had mowed their wheat and rye and had 
 shocked it, in readiness. The stand was not so heavy 
 as it might have been, and many of the heads had not 
 filled out; but the yield more than repaid the efforts 
 that had been put upon achieving it. 
 
 After the threshing, by horse-power, Harry hauled 
 the grain to the mill at Manhattan and returned with 
 flour. 
 
 So the first week of December found the ranch well 
 provisioned against the winter. The only thing lack- 
 ing was Terry's father. He had not come, and there 
 
 280 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 281 
 
 was no further word of him. A number of other gold 
 seekers had traveled eastward through Manhattan and 
 a number had gone out to the mountains, enthused by 
 the reports. But of any " Mr. Jones " not a particle 
 more news had been gathered. 
 
 On this Terry reflected as he left with the ox team 
 and wagon, to take a last load of cord- wood to Fort 
 Riley. The weather was likely to break, any day, and 
 the chances were that the load was the last to be de- 
 livered for some months. One big snow would tie the 
 ranch up, as to heavy hauling. That was why he used 
 the ox team; they were sturdier pullers, in a pinch, 
 and should a storm come and make the road heavy, 
 they would get him through. But they were slow, and 
 with ox team the round trip to Manhattan or Fort Riley 
 occupied three days. 
 
 It was a soft, sweet morning. Basking in the early 
 sunshine the ranch looked at its best. The yellow 
 stubble of the two grain fields surrounded by the fences ; 
 the short, self -cured grass which furnished famous 
 grazing; the cow and her half-buffalo calf, the colt, 
 the mare and the yellow mule industriously feeding 
 there ; the chickens and Pete the tamed turkey picking 
 and chattering in the recent rye patch ; the well stocked 
 granary and corn crib and the hay stacks ; the filled-to- 
 bur sting outdoor cellar; overlooking all, the comfort- 
 able shingled cabin, with his mother singing at her 
 work, and the blows of Harry's ax echoing from the 
 timber where he was trimming some clapboards this 
 thrilled Terry with pride. It was his ranch or at least 
 was part his, for he had helped to make it. If only 
 
282 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 his father would appear and see, and know, then happi- 
 ness would be complete. The ranch lacked just that: 
 father. They three had so frequently thought of him, 
 and really had worked hard to get things ready for 
 him. His hat was a poor substitute, and it still hung 
 on the peg, waiting. 
 
 Buck and Spot, the oxen, trudged steadily; Shep, 
 alongside, had no difficulty keeping up. That night 
 Terry stayed at the hospitable Andrews ranch, down 
 the valley and over half way on his journey ; and by the 
 next noon trundled into Fort Riley, where Captain 
 Steuart and Lieutenant Arnold and old Sergeant 
 Murphy were very glad to see him. 
 
 " An* when be ye startin' home, may I ask ? " in- 
 quired the sergeant. 
 
 " This afternoon, maybe," answered Terry. " I 
 thought I'd stop in Manhattan, and get some stuff for 
 the ranch." 
 
 " I'd advise ye to go home straight, my boy," spoke 
 the sergeant, with a wag of his carroty head. " An' 
 as quick as you can travel. I'm thinkin' there's a storm 
 comin'. I feel it in my bones." 
 
 " I don't see any sign of it, though," argued Terry ; 
 for the day was warm and placid a perfect Indian 
 Summer day. 
 
 " No ? " And the sergeant again wagged his head 
 dubiously. " But I can tell. If you'd lived on the 
 plains as long as I have, you could tell, too. The birds 
 tell me, an* the beasts tell me, an' my bones tell me, 
 an' the Injuns say the same. There's the feel in the 
 air. I don't look for it this night, or maybe to-morrow; 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 283 
 
 but there's a norther brewin', and when it comes it'll 
 come with its tail up. 'Twould be a bad thing for 
 ye to be caught on the trail, an* I'd order ye to stay, but 
 belike your mother'd be worried frantic, an' if you start 
 at wance like as not you'll beat it. So if I were you I'd 
 lave Manhattan for another time an' strike for home 
 by the shortest route. Sure, travelin' light, an' takin' 
 the cut-off to the valley, you might go a good ways yet 
 before dark, an' by the morrow evenin' or before ye'd 
 be safe where ye belong and an' save your mother all 
 the worry." 
 
 Yes, it seemed to be the general opinion around the 
 post that a bad storm was at hand. After their noon 
 feed and rest Buck and Spot were in good shape; so 
 Terry accepted the advice given him and started for 
 home, not by the main road down-river to Manhattan, 
 but by a cut-off which from the high table-land whereon 
 was located Fort Riley crossed over northeastward into 
 the Valley of the Blue. It was used as a timber-hauling 
 road. 
 
 Buck and Spot, headed for home, plodded briskly; 
 and Terry, seated in the empty wagon, driving with his 
 voice and the long-lashed whip, urged them on while 
 the wagon clattered and jolted under him. 
 
 The sun set clear and golden when in the Valley 
 of the Blue again he halted at another of those settler 
 cabins whose doors were always open to the wayfarer. 
 Settler Emory and his wife also were fearful that the 
 weather was about to break. They had lived in the 
 valley for three years, and claimed that they knew the 
 weather. After such a Fall the change would come 
 
284 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 on a sudden and it was coming soon. But they 
 thought that Terry would get home. 
 
 Terry was not a whit alarmed. The main road up 
 the valley was an old friend of his; in his mind's eye 
 he could sketch every inch of it. Now on the home 
 stretch he had no thought of delaying to wait upon the 
 weather. If he did wait, and a storm did set in, his 
 mother, and Harry, too, would imagine all sorts of 
 harrowing things. His mother (as the sergeant had 
 said) likely would " worry herself frantic ", and Harry 
 probably would ride out into the storm, searching for 
 him. 
 
 When he rumbled out, with team and wagon, in the 
 early morning, another beautiful day was promised by 
 sun and sky. But by the time that he had traveled five 
 miles, even he could sense the change impending. The 
 air was soft and still, and yet over the blue sky was 
 creeping a haze, so that the sun seemed farther away. 
 While the haze closed in, the landscape appeared to be 
 watching it, and through the stillness the voices from 
 the ranches and the cawing of the crows sounded un- 
 usually loud. 
 
 Terry cracked his lash over his oxen's backs, to 
 hasten the pace, and proceeded blithely. 
 
 " Buck ! Spot ! G'lang ! " he encouraged. But no- 
 body can well hurry oxen. Buck and Spot were trudg- 
 ing as fast as was comfortable. Shep, his tongue out, 
 ambled behind the wagon. 
 
 The haze overhead had thickened ; all the brightness 
 of the day was paled, and the sun shone dimly from 
 amidst a ring. The tops of the hills stood out darkened 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 285 
 
 and very sharp against the drab horizon. The air had 
 chilled perceptibly. There was now no doubt that the 
 storm would arrive soon. But the familiar road 
 stretched onward ; it led past ranches from which people 
 waved or shouted greetings to Terry they all knew 
 Terry Richards, of the Richards place up the valley 
 and bore travelers other than himself. 
 
 " Change in the weather. Going to snow." 
 
 " Reckon so" agreed Terry, cheerfully. " Buck ! 
 Spot! G'lang!" 
 
 By noon he was more than half way. He decided 
 not to stop for dinner, and paused only to water the 
 oxen at a trough. The day had thickened amazingly; 
 the haze had closed down, the sun was gone, the air 
 was emphatically chill and raw, and a vague moaning 
 drifted from the distant hills in the west. That was a 
 breeze, heard before felt, humming a storm song. The 
 birds were flitting restlessly ; and now and then the sun- 
 flower stalks and the other weeds rustled uneasily, as if 
 afraid. 
 
 Whew, how cold it was growing, as well as dark! 
 Terry already had put on his coat; he buttoned it up 
 around his neck, and swung his lash vigorously, not 
 only to urge on Buck and Spot but also to keep himself 
 warmer. He had left the major portion of the settled 
 valley behind him; from here onward the ranches 
 thinned out rapidly, and the road was less and less 
 traveled until beyond the Stanton ranch it was merely 
 a road which he and Harry had made, on their trips 
 out and in. 
 
 Everything was so dull and dark that there was no 
 
286 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 way of telling the time. The birds had ceased twitter- 
 ing on the prairie; even the weeds were silent; the 
 intervals between ranches were long. And all alone 
 he rumbled on, anxiously eying the sky. 
 
 He began to see his breath, and the puffing breath of 
 the oxen. Jiminy! Was it getting as cold as that? 
 He jumped off, to trot awhile at the fore wheel and 
 limber up. The breeze from the west suddenly soughed 
 louder and flared his hat brim with a raw, warning 
 gust; and when he glanced westward, alarmed, all the 
 hills had vanished in a white mist. The breeze had 
 veered into the north of west; the storm had crossed 
 the dividing ridge arid was in the Valley of the Blue, 
 and he had ten miles to go. 
 
 However, that was nothing, on a plain road through 
 this familiar country. He had passed the ranches ex- 
 cept the Stanton ranch, but this lay only about eight 
 miles before, and beyond that by a short space was 
 home. Once at the Stanton ranch he would be safe; 
 could borrow a horse and saddle, if necessary. 
 
 "Buck! Spot! G'lang!" 
 
 In five minutes it was snowing. At first the flakes 
 were small, driven fiercely by a strong wind and sting- 
 ing his cheek, as bent forward he trudged beside the 
 wagon, calling to his oxen. Speedily the flakes in- 
 creased in size and number; they filled the air, with 
 their long lines of flight weaving a dense net-work that 
 instantaneously blotted out the landscape, and enclosed 
 him in a mesh. They plastered his face and coat, and 
 turned the oxen and the road white. It was a big 
 storm. 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 287 
 
 Shep, his shaggy fur made heavy, took refuge under 
 the wagon, where he occasionally shook himself as he 
 ambled. The snow piled up rapidly. Soon Terry could 
 not see the road, except where the ruts had crushed the 
 sod and weeds; and the ruts themselves were being 
 leveled by the white flood. 
 
 Buck and Spot, heads low, snorted as they strained 
 in the yoke. This, and the creaking yoke and wagon, 
 were the only sounds to be heard. Forming a little 
 world of his own, through that other, strange world 
 which he did not recognize pushed Terry. He could 
 not make out the road at all, now, and every landmark 
 had disappeared, flattened by the snow, but he was cer- 
 tain that he was heading right. 
 
 By its magic touch, how quickly the snow had 
 changed things! He had no idea where he was 
 couldn't see beyond the oxen, anyway. Walking was 
 getting difficult ; he stumbled, trudging ankle deep, and 
 was wringing wet with perspiration. So he climbed 
 aboard, and drew over him the buffalo robe that he had 
 used as a pad to sit on. This was more comfortable. 
 The air was growing icy, and he could wrap up his red, 
 wet hands. 
 
 The oxen toiled, and blew to clear their nostrils. 
 The wagon, its rumble dulled by the snow, rolled on. 
 Terry sat hunched, and wondered where he was, with 
 his outfit. It seemed to him he must be near the 
 Stanton place, but he had seen no fences or house. 
 Would he never, never get anywhere ? In fact, was he 
 on the road at all? The wagon lunged suspiciously, 
 and under the wheels weeds crackled. 
 
288 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " Buck ! Spot ! G'lang ! " he appealed, desperately. 
 " What's the matter with you ! Hep ! " 
 
 He was not cold, but the snow in his face made him 
 drowsy. He may have dozed off; at any rate, he was 
 aroused to action by the wagon stopping. He opened 
 his eyes and peered. An object loomed whitely, just 
 ahead. The oxen were staring and snorting. 
 
 It was a horse a saddled horse, standing huddled, 
 tail to the storm; and another object, of mingled white 
 and black, on the ground beside it. A man! 
 Thoroughly awakened, Terry threw off his buffalo robe 
 and plumped out. 
 
 The man was sitting with his head almost between 
 his knees, and the bridle lines fast gripped in one stiff 
 hand. The snow had lodged in a white layer upon his 
 back and hat, so he probably had been here some time. 
 He wore a black slouch hat and an old overcoat, but 
 his hands were bare. His overcoat collar was turned 
 up. 
 
 " Hello! " cried Terry. " Here! You'd better get 
 up. You can't sit there." 
 
 The figure stirred a trifle, and mumbled thickly. 
 Terry stooped and grasped his shoulder. 
 
 " Get up. Can't you get up? " And" You must 
 get up ! You'll freeze." 
 
 Shep trotted out from under the wagon, curious to 
 see what was happening. He gingerly sniffed of the 
 figure lifted his tail and began to bark. That bark 
 seemed to penetrate farther than had Terry's voice, for 
 the figure stirred again, and did make an attempt to 
 rise. But he sank back. 
 
I 
 
 I) 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 289 
 
 " I'll help you. I'll put you in the wagon/ 1 shouted 
 Terry. "Try to walk." 
 
 He thrust his hands under the figure's arms and 
 lifted stoutly. The figure strove, too ; apparently knew 
 that something was being done for him. Terry lifted 
 him part way but his legs gave out from under him, 
 and he and Terry came down together. His hat fell 
 off. Shep was barking more wildly than ever and 
 straightening for another effort Terry saw that the 
 man's hair was marked with a long white blotch ! Not 
 snow not a bit of it. It was white hair over a scar ! 
 Yes, sir. Now the bearded face also was revealed; 
 and peering, Terry uttered a gasp of astonishment. 
 But Shep had known, first. 
 
 " Father ! Don't you know me ? " appealed Terry. 
 "It's Terry! I'm Terry! Hurrah! Please help. 
 I've got the wagon right here. You get in and I'll take 
 you home take you to the ranch. It's only a little 
 way." 
 
 He tugged, again, lifting. His father tried, as if he 
 had understood. The lines had fallen from his grasp ; 
 his feet were numb, evidently did not work, and he 
 was stiff all through. But Terry managed to hold him 
 upright, and half carried him, half dragged him, to 
 the wagon; supported him and placed one of his feet 
 on the wheel hub, and his hands on the edge of the 
 wagon bed. Then braced behind him and shoved 
 gradually raised him forward (while he fumbled and 
 wavered) until he pitched in and fell in a heap. 
 
 Terry scrambled in after him ; straightened him out, 
 and snatching the buffalo robe rolled him in it. Father ! 
 
290 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Think of that! Father! He must have been on his 
 way home. Where had he come from ? But no mat- 
 ter. Here he was, and he had been rescued just in time. 
 What good fortune! Supposing the oxen had not 
 stopped. Why, they might have passed right by. Or 
 supposing he, Terry, had waited, at Fort Riley, or 
 down the valley, on account of the storm ! It seemed 
 as though he had been led right to this spot, at this 
 critical moment. 
 
 But Terry did not delay to speculate with himself. 
 Hustle, was the word. He ran to the saddled horse, 
 seized the hanging lines and led it (stiff was the horse, 
 too) and fastened it to the tail of the wagon. 
 
 " Shep ! Good old Shep ! We found dad ! " he en- 
 couraged. Shep, shaking his wet hide, barked joyously. 
 
 Terry climbed to the seat and swung his lash. 
 
 "Buck! Spot! Hep! G'lang, now. Home! 
 Home!" 
 
 The oxen started, the wagon lurched to their tugs, 
 and through the driving snow forged ahead, across the 
 whitely veiled expanse. 
 
 This was not the road, though ; it certainly was not 
 the road. It was not any road. The tires crushed too 
 many weeds, and sometimes dead sunflower stalks 
 brushed the seat. Terry, urging the team, no longer 
 was cold or sleepy; he was all alert and eager, but he 
 began to be alarmed. Where was he, and where were 
 the oxen going with him, and with his father? The 
 storm was biting his face, as if the wind, or he, had 
 shifted direction. The road was lost he was lost, and 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 291 
 
 evidently was out somewhere on the broad, trackless 
 prairie. 
 
 The wagon lurched, and Terry lurched with it. 
 White was he, white was the buffalo robe on the wagon 
 bed behind him, and white were the plodding oxen 
 before, wading to their knees in that other whiteness. 
 Alternately he shouted at them and looked for land- 
 marks. Ever the wagon moved, but it never arrived. 
 Suddenly the oxen stopped, as if to rest, panting. 
 They would not advance, in spite of his urging with 
 voice and lash. Out he jumped, alighting on stinging 
 feet, and plowed around to their heads. No wonder 
 that they would not go on; they had come to a fence, 
 squarely across their path. 
 
 A fence! Whose fence? It was a "buck" rail 
 fence, like the fences on the ranch, but also like the 
 fences on the Stanton ranch and on many another ranch 
 in the valley; and what kind of a field it enclosed he 
 could not tell, because of the snow. One thing was 
 sure : he had lost the road. 
 
 The fence dimly stretched without end, on either 
 hand. Which way should he turn, to get to a house or 
 into the open ? Maybe he'd better set off on foot, and 
 leave the team. No, that wouldn't do. He didn't dare 
 to. The team might move, and he'd not be able to find 
 them again, and his father. That would be horrible. 
 
 Shep came out, snuffing about. He'd try Shep. 
 Dogs ought to know, if oxen didn't. 
 
 "Here, Shep. Home, old boy! Home, Shep! Go 
 home ! " essayed Terry. 
 
 But Shep only gamboled, and barked impatiently; 
 
292 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 put his fore paws up to the wagon bed and barked and 
 wanted to climb in. The more Terry ordered, the more 
 Shep barked, while the snow sifted down and the wind 
 moaned drearily, and the oxen stood drooping, near 
 spent. 
 
 Terry was getting chilled through. 
 
 " Gee, Buck ! Hep with you ! Gee ! Gee, now ! " 
 
 At a venture he turned them to the right, along the 
 fence. Shep barked but whether he barked just be- 
 cause they were moving again, or because they were 
 going right, or wrong, Terry had no idea. Listen, 
 though ! Wasn't that a whoop a halloo, smothered by 
 the flakes? 
 
 Shep heard. His ears were pricked, and he halted 
 with cold foot uplifted. 
 
 " Whoop-ee ! " shrilled Terry, with all lungs. 
 
 An answer drifted on the wind. His heart glowed 
 with hope renewed. He urged on Buck and Spot, and 
 shouted repeatedly. 
 
 "Whoo-oo-pee!" 
 
 " Whoo-oo-pee ! " drifted the replies. 
 
 " Hello ! Where are you ? " The voice was nearer 
 seemed to issue from behind him. 
 
 " Here ! " called Terry. " Whoa-oa ! " 
 
 "All right. Stand still. We're coming. Keep 
 calling." 
 
 Terry waited, and called. In a minute more he saw 
 them two horsemen, riding slowly down upon him, 
 from toward the rear. One was Harry, wasn't it? 
 Yes ! And the other was Sol Judy. They were snow- 
 
THE GIFT OF THE BLIZZARD 293 
 
 covered, but by their strained anxious faces they were 
 well frightened. 
 
 " That you, Terry ? Thank God ! " exclaimed Harry, 
 from the back of the mare. 
 
 " Where you going, boy ? " demanded Sol, huge in 
 a great buffalo coat. " Where do you think you* re 
 heading?" 
 
 " I don't know," faltered Terry. " I want to get 
 home, but I lost the road, and then this fence stopped 
 
 me." 
 
 " Lucky it did," said Sol. " But turn around, turn 
 around. You're heading for the Missouri River. 
 You're 'way, 'way off the trail." 
 
 " Whose fence is it? " pleaded Terry. " Is it ours? 
 Have I passed the Stantons' ? " 
 
 " Yes. But this is their new patch that they fenced 
 in, on their east line. You're clear over to the east, 
 boy," explained Harry. " We've been riding for two 
 hours, and had about given you up when we struck 
 your wagon-wheel tracks away back. We followed 
 them till they were swallowed up by the snow, and if 
 it hadn't been for Shep's barking but whose horse you 
 got?" 
 
 " It's father's it's my father's," exclaimed Terry, 
 roused to energy. " And he's in the wagon, under that 
 buffalo robe. I found him found him on the way. 
 Let's hurry. Please hurry. You show me where to 
 
 go" 
 
 " What ! " rapped Sol. " Alive, is he ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I've covered him up. He wouldn't be 
 
 alive, though, if I hadn't found him. Found him on 
 
294 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 the prairie, down in the snow. Where do we go, now ? 
 Back?" 
 
 And with frantic " Gee ! " and " Hep ! " and " Gee ! " 
 again, Terry turned his team. 
 
 " You just follow us," bade Harry. " Can you hold 
 out ? Only a mile or two." 
 
 " I'm all right, but I want to get there quick," an- 
 nounced Terry. 
 
 Up to the seat he gladly climbed. Harry and Sol 
 led forth, the oxen followed almost of their own ac- 
 cord, and the wagon lumbered after. The oxen now 
 required little urging; they seemed to know that they 
 were being taken home. From his seat Terry had not 
 the least idea of direction. Jounced and bounced and 
 swayed, as the wagon struck the prairie humps and hol- 
 lows, he clung fast, and peered expectantly. Quite to 
 his own surprise, on a sudden out-buildings loured be- 
 fore him, and here he was, in the ranch yard, with the 
 cabin standing waiting and its door flung wide by his 
 mother, framed and gazing. 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! Are you here ? Did they find you ? " 
 
 " Yes," cried Terry, tumbling off in haste. " And 
 I'brought father! He's in the wagon." 
 
 Harry and Sol also were off in a twinkling. Even 
 while his mother was exclaiming they had lifted the 
 snowy hummock from the wagon bed, and were carry- 
 ing buffalo robe and all into the cabin. Terry bolted 
 after. So did Shep. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 FATHER RICHARDS WAKES UP 
 
 How warm and cosy it was in here, out of the storm, 
 with the fire-place blazing high, ruddily lighting the 
 early dusk. Mrs. Richards already had opened the bed 
 curtains ; and marching straight Harry and Sol depos- 
 ited their burden. Off came the snowy buffalo robe. 
 
 " It is he ! It is, Terry ! " ejaculated Terry's mother. 
 
 For there had been no mistake. Father Richards 
 this was, looking perfectly natural, and as if asleep. 
 His eyes were closed, but he was breathing regularly 
 he was a little thin, maybe he seemed all right, though 
 hadn't been frozen. 
 
 The two men stripped off his outer clothes, tucked 
 him under the blankets, and reaching rubbed his hands 
 and feet. Mrs. Richards bustled to heat some milk on 
 the stove. Terry dumbly watched. He was cold and 
 wet and hungry, too, but he did not mind that. Only 
 there did not appear to be anything that he could do. 
 
 " Guess I'd better put up the oxen," he said, gruffly, 
 a lump in his throat. 
 
 " Not much ! " And Harry sprang up alertly. " I 
 rather guess you won't. You stay where you are. 
 You've done your stint. When your father wakes he'll 
 want to see you." 
 
 295 
 
296 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 Out darted Harry, into the storm, to care for the 
 oxen. With " I think your husband's going to be all 
 right, ma'am. He's warm as toast and beginning to 
 sweat," Sol followed. Terry's mother turned on Terry 
 and seized him in a rapturous hug. 
 
 " Oh, Terry ! To think, you brought him ! And 
 you came home in all this storm ! Where did you find 
 him ? But you can tell us later. First you must change 
 your clothes, and drink some hot milk. Part of the 
 milk is for you. You can change your clothes down 
 here, dear, where it's warm. I'll get your things." 
 
 " Can't I wait ? " queried Terry. " I'm dry, and he's 
 liable to wake." 
 
 " You must drink your milk, anyway, and draw 
 close to the fire," bade Mother Richards. "Oh, I 
 wonder if he'll know us." 
 
 Terry luxuriously sprawled on a stool before the 
 splendid fire, and sipped, and steamed, and kept watch 
 on his father. His mother hovered anxiously, wait- 
 ing too. Now and then she laid a hand gently on 
 Father Richards' forehead and suddenly he opened 
 his eyes. 
 
 For an instant she bent over him, and Terry held his 
 breath, excited. 
 
 " Ralph! " she said, softly. " Don't you know me? 
 I'm Mary; and here's Terry. You're home home on 
 the ranch." 
 
 Father Richards stared wonderingly, but uttered no 
 sound. To the milk flew Mother Richards, bore back 
 a cupful, put her arm around his neck and raised him. 
 
 " Drink," she said. " Please do. It's hot good." 
 
FATHER RICHARDS WAKES UP 297 
 
 He drank, at first tasting, then swallowing eagerly. 
 He drained to the last drop. Mother Richards let him 
 sink on the pillow, and with a sigh he went off to sleep 
 once more. 
 
 Terry's mother turned with a wistful smile, and eyes 
 dewy. 
 
 " Do you think he knew us, Terry ? " 
 
 " He didn't say, but he might have," faltered Terry, 
 disappointed. " Maybe he will next time." 
 
 " Yes, maybe he will next time. We must let him 
 sleep. Anyway, he drank the milk." 
 
 " We'll keep him, just the same, whether he knows 
 us or not, won't we ? " invited Terry. 
 
 "Of course we will ! He'll know us some time." 
 
 Harry and Sol tiptoed in, having done the chores. 
 But they need not have tiptoed, for Father Richards' 
 slumber was a sound one. He slept without a move- 
 ment except his breathing, all through supper, and 
 through the evening. 
 
 The storm continued, and Sol Judy stayed for the 
 night. He had been here since noon. Lucky enough, 
 too, that he had stopped ; for when he and Harry had 
 ridden out to look up Terry, he it was who with his 
 plainsman's eyes had discovered the fast fading wagon 
 tracks. 
 
 Before bedtime they looked through Father Rich- 
 ards' clothing, to see if they could find some informa- 
 tion about him. And they certainly did. Inside his coat 
 pocket was a folded piece of paper, written on with 
 lead pencil. It said : 
 
298 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 To Whom This May Concern : My name is 
 not Jones, but Ralph Richards. I have a wife 
 and boy on a farm in the Big Blue Valley of 
 Kansas. Something hit me on the head and 
 made me lose my memory and I went out to 
 the Pike's Peak country. Now I am going 
 home; but if anything should happen to me, 
 this will prove my identity, and will declare 
 that I have located some rich gold ground to 
 which said wife and boy are entitled, on the 
 Platte River about a day's journey into the 
 mountains from the mouth of Cherry Creek. 
 Mr. [but nobody could make out the name, 
 because the paper was so soggy and torn] 
 knows about it. 
 
 Ralph Richards. 
 
 And in another pocket there was a little sack of gold 
 flakes! 
 
 " About two hundred dollars, I reckon," pronounced 
 Sol. 
 
 " And he's got a mine, he says ! " exclaimed Terry. 
 "When he knows us maybe he'll take us to it, ma! 
 We'll pack up and all go together." 
 
 " Not this weather, though," laughed Harry. 
 
 " Would you leave your ranch? " questioned Terry's 
 mother. " The chickens and the turkey and the buffalo 
 calf and this cabin and the fencing you've worked so 
 hard for and the land you've cleared? You couldn't 
 take those, to go mining in the mountains." 
 
 " Huh ! " reflected Terry. " I'll show them to him, 
 
FATHER RICHARDS WAKES UP 299 
 
 first. Perhaps he'd rather stay. Cracky, but he'll be 
 surprised." 
 
 However, Father Richards slept on; he was still 
 asleep at bed-time, when Terry and the other men 
 climbed into the loft, and Mother Richards prepared to 
 lie down on a pallet of buffalo robes and blankets, near 
 the bed, with Shep to keep her company. 
 
 The morning broke fair. Terry opened his eyes into 
 brightness. Evidently the sky had cleared and the sun 
 was shining, and they all had slept rather late. He 
 listened intently but nobody was talking, below. His 
 father had not waked, or else he had gone to sleep 
 again. 
 
 Mother Richards, though, was stirring about, get- 
 ting breakfast ; the aroma of coffee floated up into the 
 loft, and Terry followed close after Harry and Sol, 
 down the ladder. His mother put her finger on her 
 lips, and shook her head, as token that they all should 
 be quiet. She had drawn the curtains before the bed. 
 When Terry peeked in between them, he saw his father 
 lying almost exactly as he had been lying, the evening 
 before. 
 
 " He did not move, the night through," whispered 
 Mother Richards. 
 
 " That's all right," stated Sol. " It's the best medi- 
 
 cine." 
 
 " But he'll wake up some time, won't he ? " persisted 
 Terry. " Do you think he'll know us, Sol ? " 
 
 " Might and again he might not. Let him have his 
 sleep out, and then maybe you can jog his memory a 
 trifle." 
 
300 THE BOY SETTLER 
 
 " We must be patient, Terry boy/ 1 added Harry. 
 " You know him, anyway, and here he is, safe. That's 
 one comfort." 
 
 So they sat down to breakfast. Outside, the snow 
 had drifted to the window sills ; the world was a dazzl- 
 ing white. Assuredly, a great change had come upon 
 the ranch, within twenty-four hours. But nobody 
 cared. There was plenty of wood and food, the ani- 
 mals all were snugly housed, here in the cabin it was 
 warm and bright, and Father Richards had come home 
 Terry himself had brought him. 
 
 They were in the midst of breakfast, when the bed 
 creaked and the curtains waved. A voice feebly spoke. 
 Something doing, yonder ! Up sprang Terry's mother ; 
 hastened over, Terry at her heels. She threw open 
 the curtains. Father Richards was half sitting, gaz- 
 ing. 
 
 For a moment he looked upon them, they looked 
 upon him. 
 
 " Why ," he murmured. 
 
 "Don't you know me, Ralph?" asked Terry's 
 mother.. " You're home. This is Mary, and that is 
 Terry." 
 
 " And the ranch is all ready," burst Terry. " The 
 grasshoppers ate us, but we put in more stuff, and we've 
 got a cow and a calf and a tame turkey and a lot of 
 fences, and a partner, and I killed a panther, and so did 
 Shep and Harry," 
 
 "Sh!" warned Terry's mother. "Don't you re- 
 member us, Ralph ? " she entreated. 
 
 Father Richards was stroking his beard with his 
 
FATHER RICHARDS WAKES UP 301 
 
 hand a familiar gesture; but his eyes were wide and 
 puzzled. 
 
 "Remember? Why just who are you, and how 
 came I here ? " 
 
 " Get that letter," advised Sol. " It'll jog him." 
 
 " Where is it? " said Harry, now jumping up, also. 
 
 " No. Wait ! " cried Terry. He ran for the hat on 
 the peg, grabbed it off, and thrust it into his father's 
 hand. " There ! Don't you know that old hat, dad ? " 
 
 Father Richards turned it over, examining it inside 
 and out. Suddenly his face lighted right up, and he 
 snapped his fingers exultantly. 
 
 " That's my hat ! " he declared, in full, natural voice. 
 " Now I remember. I lost it, didn't I ? Wore it out 
 from Ohio ! By ginger! I started from the mountains 
 how I got here I can't say, but you're Mary, and 
 you're Terry, and there's Shep old Shep ! Hooray ! " 
 
 " Hooray! " echoed Terry. 
 
 How the three hugged and kissed. Terry's mother 
 finally straightened up, flushed and radiant. 
 
 " Oh ! " she uttered, looking around as if scarcely 
 decided whether to laugh or cry with joy. " What a 
 merry Christmas we're going to have!" 
 
 END 
 
CROWELL'S SCOUT BOOKS 
 
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