"Go back or I shoot!" he said

Cindy halted Sparkle. She drew her father's big revolver from its holster, steadied it across the saddle horn, and pointed it at the bearded man.

"You won't shoot anybody!" she said. "Drop your gun, or I'll shoot you!"

The bearded man looked startled. Then, very unwillingly, he let his gun fall. Mr. Simpson whirled.

"Cindy!" he gasped.

"You forgot your gun," Cindy called. "I brought it to you."

Pete slid his own gun from its holster and covered the bearded man.

"You can give your father his gun, Cindy," he said grimly. "This yahoo won't move."

"Oh, good!" Cindy breathed. "I don't know how to shoot anyhow."

She rode up to her father, handed him his gun, and Mr. Simpson buckled it about his waist. Pete Brent spoke sternly to the bearded man. "We don't want your claim, but if you feel like fighting, pick up your gun and go to it!"

"I thought you was claim jumpers!" the man said tremulously. "I rode a long an' hard piece to get me some land in Oklahoma."

"So did a lot of other people, and many of them will ride for nothing. Be careful who you're pulling a gun on after this!"

"I'm sorry," the bearded man said humbly.

"Cindy!" her father said. "You can't be here!"

"But I am here," Cindy pointed out.

"I'll have to take you back."

"If you do," Pete warned, "somebody else will stake your claim."

"Let me stay!" Cindy pleaded. "Let me stay, Dad! I won't be in the way, and maybe I can help!"

Her father said uncertainly, "It's no place for a girl."

"Please!" Cindy begged.

"It looks," Pete grinned, "as though we're three homesteaders instead of two."

Alec

Alec never acted without first planning, and the action he took depended on whatever his plan called for. Right now, he decided, he'd have to move swiftly if he hoped to catch Cindy before she was out of sight. He bridled Pete's sorrel pony, whose name was Carrots, and leaped astride him. Then he shouted his intentions to his mother and whirled Carrots toward Oklahoma.

At once, though it had taken less than a minute to reach and bridle the pony, he knew that he was too late. He'd noticed the running men and depended upon them to delay Cindy. But he had not counted on his sister's skill as a rider. Cindy was nowhere to be seen.

Immediately Alec formed another plan. As soon as he did so, he put it into effect. Riding cautiously so as to hit none of the running men, he crossed the border into Oklahoma. After he'd passed most of the men, he let Carrots canter and drew farther ahead. Safely in advance of the crowd, Alec slowed his mount.

It would be exciting to fly over the grasslands as fast as Carrots could run. But it would not be sensible, and it would not help find Cindy. The situation, in Alec's opinion, called for clear thinking.

He knew that Pete Brent had in mind definite claims to which he was taking Mr. Simpson. But Alec hadn't the faintest idea how to find those claims. However, there was certain logic which could not fail to guide him correctly.

North lay the Cherokee Strip, in which no lands were open, so surely Pete would not go north. It stood to reason that, knowing of claims he wanted to stake, Pete would have camped as near to them as possible. However, it did not necessarily follow that the claims lay due south. Pete might travel southeast or southwest. But since time was so important, he would not go very far to the east or west.

Alec decided that, if he rode an estimated quarter of a mile east, then turned Carrots and rode the same distance west, and kept working south, he would be sure to find Cindy. And find her he would if it took him six months and he had to cover all of Oklahoma.

He did not hurry, for the time for hurrying was past. Carrots might have a very long trip ahead of him, and it was well to save his strength. Letting the pony choose his own pace, Alec tried to see everything.

He passed a wagon with a broken wheel. There were no horses or mules hitched to it and nobody around. Evidently, when the wagon broke down, whoever owned it had cut his team loose and ridden on into Oklahoma. Alec guided Carrots around a homesteader who had marked his claim with a huge white sheet. The homesteader was looking frantically for the corners.

Most of Oklahoma seemed to be very good land. But Alec had a farmer's eye, and he was glad his father had gone on. In a year of abundant rainfall, any fertile land would grow good crops. In a year of drought, water would be necessary. Alec hoped his father would find a claim near a stream.

As soon as he had traveled what he thought was a sufficient distance, Alec turned Carrots and started in the other direction. Carrots flicked his ears forward and snorted softly. Alec looked with interest at a little grove of trees that rose above the grass. He swung Carrots toward them. As soon as he was near, he heard two men arguing.

One, stripped to the waist and sweating, had been digging in a huge hole. Over the hole, Alec understood, he would build a dugout to serve as a dwelling place until he could erect a house. The other man, mounted on a sweating horse, must have started from the border and ridden in the Run.

"You got out here and dug that big a hole since noon?" asked the man who was astride the horse.

"You dug that big a hole since noon?" asked the man on the horse

"Yup," said the other man.

"You couldn't have!" the horseman flared. "You're a Sooner!"

"Prove it," the other said.

"I'll do better than that!" the horseman exclaimed. "I'll bring soldiers and let them see what you've done! If they think you're a Sooner, then you're out and this is my claim!"

The horseman wheeled and rode back toward the border to find soldiers. The man who had been digging the hole looked worriedly after him.

Wanting no part of this or any other trouble, Alec rode on. But he saw why the disputed claim was valuable, for the trees surrounded a sparkling water hole. In a dry year, when wells might fail, whoever owned such a water hole could easily have every neighbor at his mercy.

All about were men who had staked claims, and they were busy hunting the corners or building up those they had found. One white-haired man had a little mountain of rock and was feverishly making it higher. Alec formed his own opinions. Some of the people who had staked here thought that all they had to do to be well settled was to claim a homestead. They knew nothing of better lands farther on. Others, who did know, had been unable to keep up with the Run. Instead of getting what they wanted, they were taking what they could get. There were some choice claims, such as the one with the water hole.

"Boy! Hey, boy!"

Alec stopped Carrots. He waited for a lanky, excited man who was shaking his fist and talking to himself.

"Do you know what I aim to do, boy?" the man called.

"No," said Alec.

"Goin' to law," the man said. "Goin' to law soon's I can find me a lawyer. Claim jumpers run me off my claim!"

Still shaking his fist and talking to himself, the man walked on. Alec slacked Carrots' reins. He shivered. Gramps had said that the settlement of Oklahoma was a fine and wonderful thing, and it was. But it had already given rise to quarrels. Alec rode on. He wondered what other ways would be used to settle the question when two or more people staked a claim. Already he had seen a man who intended to challenge a Sooner, and another who was going to court. Alec thought that some of the arguments might not be settled for months, or even years.

He reined Carrots toward someone he knew. It was the old man with the sorry-looking mule, which now stood with drooping head and switching tail. The old man looked up.

"Hello, boy," he said happily.

"Hello," Alec replied.

The old man said proudly, "Got me a claim."

"I'm glad," said Alec. "Have you seen my sister?"

"Sister?" the old man asked. Then, "Oh! That purty leetle gal what used 'ter walk with ye on the border? Nope. Haven't seen hide nor hair of her."

"Thanks," said Alec.

His hopes dashed, but without even a thought of giving up, Alec rode grimly on. It would be nice to find someone who had seen and recognized Cindy, and who could tell him the direction in which she had gone. But even if nobody could tell him about his sister, Alec would find her. It was his job.

Alec saw a man with a cocked rifle in his hands. He was pointing the weapon at the mid-section of another man, and both were still as statues. Then the threatened man turned angrily and started walking away. The man with the rifle called, "Next time, I pull the trigger! I'll shoot you or any other claim jumper!"

Farther on Alec found a big man and a lean one with linked arms. Each man had two black eyes. Both were spattered with blood. Their shirts were in ribbons, and bruised flesh showed through. They were the same men Cindy had passed; the lean one had thrown his pack away and challenged the big one for his claim.

The lean man said admiringly, "Nothin' like a little fight to clear the air, Jud boy!"

"Nothin' like a little fight to clear the air, Jud boy!"

"Sure ain't, Al boy!" the big man said. "Sure glad we met!"

"Me too!" the lean man said. "You'n me, we'll make this the best darn' farm in Oklahoma, Jud boy!"

"Al boy, you're sure 'nough right!" the big man said.

Carrots broke into a trot, and Alec let him go. He hadn't the least idea of where he would sleep tonight or what he would eat, but he was not going back to the wagon without finding Cindy. His mother would worry if he did not return. But she would worry just as much if Cindy stayed lost. Working southward, Alec swung back and forth.

Evening shadows were long when he saw someone else he knew. It was the bearded man with the race horse. Alec rode straight toward him. The bearded man was always unfriendly. But if he had news of Cindy, Alec must have it. However, now that he had his land and no longer had to worry about getting some, the man was not unfriendly any more.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," Alec replied. "Have you seen my sister?"

"Sure have!" the bearded man said cheerfully. "She caught up with your dad an' the man from the wagon next to yours right here on my claim. She was ridin' a roan pony, an' so was t'other man. Your dad had his palomino mare. They said they was goin' on."

"You're sure?" Alec inquired.

"Dead sure. Saw 'em with my own eyes," the bearded man said.

"Thanks," said Alec.

Even as he spoke, he was turning Carrots and galloping full speed back to the Simpson wagon. When he reached it, not taking time to dismount, he shouted his happy news from the pony's back. "It's all right, Mother! Cindy's with Dad!"

The Claims

The sun was still high when Cindy, her father, and Pete Brent reached the claims Pete had in mind. True to the promise of early morning, the day had become hot. Walking their horses, they stopped on a grassy knoll.

"There they are!" Pete said proudly, "and we're first!"

Cindy gasped with pleasure, for the land to which Pete had led them was surely the most beautiful in the world. It was level, surrounded by knolls and hillocks much like the one upon which they stood, and grass that would be shoulder-high to a horse was already almost knee-high. A wide stream curled through it, and there was a fine grove of oak trees in new leaf.

"It looks great!" Mr. Simpson exclaimed.

Her father's voice had a spirit and glow that Cindy had never noticed before, but she knew why it was there. A true farmer, Jed Simpson knew fine land when he saw it.

"It's the greatest!" Pete said. "And the market will be ready when our crops are." He pointed. "Two miles over there, half a section, or three hundred and twenty acres, have been reserved for a town site. They're going to call it Plains City. Two miles over there," he pointed in a different direction, "is the railroad. The oak grove will be half on your claim and half on mine."

"Well," Mr. Simpson grinned, "let's go down and stake."

They rode down the knoll, and the men took their coats off. Cindy removed her jacket, for she was perspiring, and dropped it in the grass.

"Don't forget where it is," her father warned.

"I won't, Dad," Cindy promised.

They rode until Pete halted them.

"Stick your flag in right here, Jed," he told Cindy's father.

"Here?" Mr. Simpson questioned.

"This is it."

Mr. Simpson dismounted, and holding the tired Sunshine's reins, he took the flag from his saddle and rammed the pointed end of the stick into the ground.

"I christen thee Simpsonia," he said solemnly.

"Good enough." Pete couldn't lose his grin. "Now I'll stake."

In spite of the long run, Pete's pony still had enough spirit to canter. Pete rode him through the oak grove and thrust his flag into the center of the claim he wanted. Cindy dismounted and petted Sparkle. She had thought that claiming the homesteads would be the most exciting part of all, but she was just as happy that it wasn't. There'd been enough excitement for one day.

Still grinning broadly, Pete came riding back.

"It's our land now," he said. "Let's care for the horses, and I'll show you where the corners are."

They rode to the oak grove, stripped their mounts, rubbed them down, and Pete and Jed staked their horses on picket ropes. Cindy had no rope, but Sparkle showed no wish to leave his friends, and all three horses started happily to crop the rich grass.

"Now I'll show you—" Pete began.

"Hey!" Cindy shouted.

They had left the sacks of food with their other gear. Cindy looked around just in time to see a little black bear with a sack of food in his mouth running through the oak grove and into the tall grass. Jed drew his revolver, but before he could shoot the little bear had disappeared. Jed sheathed his gun.

"Doggone! There goes half our grub!" he exclaimed.

"And with three of us to eat what's left," Pete mourned, "we're likely to be on short rations. I'd better take care of the other sack."

He returned to the grove, pulled down a supple oak branch, tied the remaining sack to it, and let the branch spring upward. Coming back, Pete shrugged. The lost food was a serious matter, but there was no use complaining.

"Our claims adjoin down by the creek," Pete said, "and each of us has enough creek frontage so that we'll never lack for water. Come on."

He led them to the creek and showed them a neat cairn, or pile, of rocks that the government surveyors had placed there. Some of the rocks had tumbled down, but they were quickly replaced and the cairn built higher. Cindy looked at the creek.

The water had eaten into the opposite bank to form a pool about ten feet long, six feet wide and twenty inches deep. But the entrance was no more than about two feet wide by eight inches deep. Lurking in the center of the pool were at least fifteen big fish that had swum out of the creek to hunt minnows.

"Your next corner," said Pete, "is down here."

He led them to another pile of rocks, and they built that up. Then he took them to the rest of the boundary markers that defined these claims. They were so busy building up the cairns that Cindy was astonished to find themselves surrounded.

There had been no one else in sight when they arrived. Now, wherever Cindy looked, she saw picketed horses or mules and busy men. The white tops of two covered wagons glowed in the descending sun. At least two of those who had put their faith in wagons had made it this far.

Mr. Simpson, who had been carrying a big boulder to the last corner, added it to the cairn and straightened. He looked around.

Mr. Simpson added a big boulder to the cairn

"Seems as though we have neighbors, Pete," he remarked.

"It was bound to be," Pete said. "This is some of the best land in Oklahoma, and we Boomers have known of it for a long while. Bet most of the people around us are Boomers."

"What do we do now?" Jed asked.

Pete, still grinning, yawned. "Let's make camp."

They went back to the oak grove. Jed broke brittle branches from a tree that had fallen and died, and Pete built a fire. He opened the sack of food, cut strips of bacon, and inserted a stick of green wood into the hollow handle of a frying pan. The wood lengthened the handle, so that Pete was able to hold the frying pan over the fire without burning his hand. He cooked the bacon, and when it was done he laid all the slices at one side of the frying pan and scooped a generous portion of already-cooked beans in beside them. Mr. Simpson brought three slabs of clean bark, and Pete divided the food into three equal portions.

They were hungry, for they had worked hard, and since there were no spoons or forks they had to eat with their fingers. It was, Cindy thought, a delightful way to dine, and she had never known that bacon, warmed-over beans, and stale biscuits could taste so good. After she'd eaten her portion she was still hungry, but she purposely avoided looking at the nearly empty sack. The food had been intended for one person, not three, and there was just enough left for a skimpy breakfast.

"I'm full," said Mr. Simpson, throwing his slab of bark into the fire.

"I am, too," Pete said. "How about, you, Cindy?"

"Um-um-yummy." Cindy did not want to tell a lie.

The grazing horses raised their heads and stared hard toward something which only they knew was coming. Pete and Jed got to their feet, and their hands hovered very near their holstered guns. A moment later two horsemen appeared on top of a hillock and started toward them. Pete grinned reassuringly. "It's all right. I know them. They're Cal and Sim Macklin."

The horsemen came near, and one of the riders shouted, "Hi! You old Boomer!"

"Who are you calling 'Boomer'?" Pete shouted back. "And who 'boomed' any harder than you two?"

"Can we have some wood for a fire?"

"Sure thing," Pete said. "These are Jed and Cindy Simpson. They're with me."

"Glad to know you," Sim Macklin said cordially, and Cal added his greeting.

The two men cared for their horses and came into the oak grove. Cindy liked them immediately, for they seemed to be a special kind of men. They were quiet, but they were self-assured and gave the impression that they could take care of themselves anywhere.

"Had anything to eat?" Pete asked.

Cal Macklin grinned. "We sort of came away without a grubstake."

"I'll fix you something right away."

Pete started cooking the rest of the bacon and beans, took the remaining biscuits from the sack, and Cindy groaned inwardly. They'd have no breakfast at all now, but they couldn't deny hungry people.

"Get your claims?" Pete asked.

"I got one next section over," said Cal. "Sim's looking for a town lot."

Cal took a little coil of wire from his pocket, bent an end that had been sticking him, and put the coil back.

"How are things in Plains City?" asked Pete.

"Wild," said Sim. "Six claimers for every lot. They've staked the streets and everything else. I'll wait until it quiets down and buy me a lot. Meanwhile I'm hanging out with Cal. I'm going back for his wagon tomorrow."

"Would you mind," Mr. Simpson spoke up, "stopping by our wagon and asking my son to come up too?"

"I'll be glad to. Where's your wagon?"

"Right next to mine," said Pete, "on the border a half mile north of Sycamore Crossing."

"I'll find it," Sim promised. "Anything special you want?"

"You can tell Alec to bring the tools, and I'd like an extra team of mules. Tell my wife that Cindy's safe and we can use some food."

"Sure," said Sim.

Before dark, five more Boomers had come to the grove. Three of them had nothing to eat, but the other two divided their food. Every claim, they said, was staked. Oklahoma had been almost settled in half a day. There was no doubt that Sooners had much choice land, and there were many arguments and claim jumping. Because they had known exactly where to go, the Boomers had many of the finest homesteads.

The Boomers were still, Cindy felt, a special breed. It was hard to imagine them jumping any claims, but just as hard to imagine anyone jumping theirs. Cindy yawned.

"Tired, honey?" her father asked.

"Sort of."

"Guess we could all use some sleep."

Cindy slept with her head on Sparkle's saddle and the saddle blanket over her. She did not awaken until the sun was rising. The Boomers who'd camped with them had already gone their separate ways, but Jed and Pete still slept. Lacking tools, they could do no work. But if they left their claims, somebody might jump them.

Going to the creek, Cindy drank as much water as she could hold and told herself she wasn't hungry. Rising, she saw a wagon coming over a hillock. It contained the family who had to "make out" in Oklahoma.

Pete and Jed joined Cindy, and the wagon drew to a stop beside them. The man and woman were on the seat, and the woman looked very worried. The man seemed more tired than ever, and evidently the children were asleep in the wagon.

"Howdy," the man said.

"Hi," said Jed and Pete together.

"How far," the man asked, "do you have to go into Oklyhomy to find land that ain't staked?"

"I'm afraid," said Pete, "that you're too late."

"You mean," and the man seemed to grow more tired and the woman more worried with each passing second, "it's all took up?"

"I'm afraid it is."

"I started good," the man said hoarsely, "but a horse played out. Time I'd rested him, it was midnight. I started right out again."

"I'm sorry," said Pete.

"This your claim?" the man asked Jed.

"That's right."

"And that one's yours?"

"Yes, it is," said Pete.

"Whose is that'n over yonder?"

Cindy, her father, and Pete Brent looked at each other. There were homesteaders on every claim except the one where a youngster had thrown her jacket down. Boomers had honored this sign of ownership.

"That's yours!" Cindy cried. "Go stake it!"

Hungry

Pete, Jed, and Cindy sat together at the edge of the oak grove. Arms clasped around his knees, Pete stared at the horizon. Mr. Simpson used a piece of broken stick to dig interestedly into the rich soil of this new land, and Cindy gazed hungrily at the wagon.

"They seem," she said hopefully, "like such nice people."

"I'm sure they are," her father said.

"And they must have just loads of things in that big wagon."

"They must have," said Mr. Simpson.

"So if I went over there and sort of—"

"Cindy!" her father roared. "Food is given, not asked for!"

"I wasn't going to ask for any."

"No. You were just going to hint around until they gave you some."

"Dang it, Jed," Pete broke in, "we didn't really give 'em a chance to offer us any."

"So we didn't."

"If all three of us go over," Cindy suggested, "they'll have a chance."

Mr. Simpson said reluctantly, "We might find out."

Side by side, they walked over to where the newcomers were setting up on the claim accidentally staked by Cindy. The man, who had built a fire with wood carried in from his wagon, did not look tired any more. He looked refreshed and ten years younger. Far from seeming worried, the woman now bloomed like a girl. The four children's eyes were big as saucers. It was a completely happy family.

Something that couldn't possibly happen to them had happened. They owned their own farm. The man came to meet the approaching trio.

"I was so flustered that I plumb forgot to be civil," he said. "I'm Silas Wentworth." He shook hands with Jed and Pete and bowed to Cindy. "Young lady, we'll never forget you."

"It was just luck," Cindy murmured.

"Come meet the family," said Silas Wentworth. "This is my Missus, Jean, and these," he indicated the children in their turn, "are Sally, Silas, Sylvia, and Serena. Say hello, children."

"Hello," Sally, about eight, said bashfully. The younger children giggled.

"Had breakfast?" Silas Wentworth questioned.

"Well, now—" Mr. Simpson began.

"We ain't got a great store of diffe'nt things," Silas Wentworth seemed a little embarrassed. "Truth is, we're down to beans. But they's lots of them."

"Then why'd you tell uth, Pa," Silas, Jr., lisped, "that we'd have to make out with light mealth till you can get thome?"

"We've had breakfast," Mr. Simpson said firmly.

"Yes, we have," Pete seconded.

"Uh-huh," said Cindy.

"Silas!" said his father, who had turned red as a glass of crabapple jelly. He looked apologetically at his guests. "Truth is, we are a mite short. But I've got money, seven whole dollars, an' there must be a town where a body can buy vittles an' maybe get work too."

"Plains City is two miles east," Pete directed. "There'll be a grocery there soon if one hasn't set up already."

"I'll ride there tomorra," Silas Wentworth declared. "I'll go the minute I can leave my fam'ly. But a body who can ask more than his quarter section of land like this," he looked happily about his farm, "sure is hard to please."

"What we really came for," Mr. Simpson spoke up, "is to see if we can borrow a couple of spades."

"Sure thing an' welcome," Silas Wentworth said. He brought a couple of good spades from his wagon. "Anything else the Wentworths got, you can have."

"Thanks," said Pete, "but these are all we need right now."

They started back. Pete Brent and Mr. Simpson each carried a spade. Cindy carried her thoughts, which centered about the hard biscuits she had eaten last night. If she had one of them right now, just one, she knew she'd never ask for anything else. Her father touched her shoulder softly.

"Sorry, honey."

"That's all right," Cindy said stoutly.

"You don't take food from babies, do you?" her father asked.

"Of course not!" said Cindy.

"I knew it would be like this at first," Mr. Simpson said. "I'm, I'm—"

"Yes?" Cindy questioned.

"I'm glad you came," her father said firmly, though Cindy had a feeling that he had been about to say he was sorry she'd come. "Maybe I can turn up something. If I can't, Alec will be here with the wagon tomorrow, and he's sure to bring some food."

"I'll live," said Cindy.

Choosing a knoll near the creek, Mr. Simpson sank his spade. Then he sank it again, and again, and when he had cut a good-sized sod, he laid it aside. Cindy knew what he was doing, for Pete had told her how many Oklahomans would build their first houses. They'd dig into the ground, saving all the sod they cut out. Then they'd make a cellar as wide and deep as they thought necessary. The dirt sides would be shored with sticks, stones, anything they could find, and the house would extend above ground too. The sides and roof might be all sod, but since they owned the oak grove, Pete and her father would have wood if they cared to use it.

It was not, of course, the good house that every Oklahoman would have shortly after the homesteads began to pay in the form of crops to be grown and sold. But it would be snug and warm, and Cindy looked forward to living in such a place.

She watched her father for some time, and the harder Mr. Simpson worked, the happier he seemed. He was digging in his own rich soil, and hunger was a small price to pay for such a privilege. But Cindy, growing hungrier by the minute, could think of nothing except food. She wandered away, watched Sparkle crop grass, and wished mightily that she were a horse. She'd eat until her stomach burst.

But she wasn't a horse and she could think of no practical way to make herself into one. Cindy went to their last night's camp, and when her eye was attracted by something bright among the foliage, she picked up the coil of fine wire that Cal Macklin thought he was putting into his pocket last night. Instead, he must have dropped it. Cindy slipped the coil into her own pocket.

Kicking idly among last year's withered leaves, she uncovered a brown-shelled acorn. She picked it up, cracked it with her teeth, and immediately puckered her lips. Cindy spat the acorn out. It was better to be hungry than to feel as though she had a mouth full of flannel.

She returned to the camp, looked at the skillet and knife Pete had used, and conjured up fond memories of the glorious feast they'd enjoyed last night. Suddenly inspired by the thought that more water might help, she returned to the creek, and chance alone brought her opposite the pool on the far bank.

The big fish were still there, lying sluggishly in the bottom of the pool until such time as they fared forth to catch more minnows. Near them was a pile of driftwood, and Cindy's fertile mind produced a wonderful idea.

Looking all around, she saw nobody. It followed, therefore, that nobody could see her; the creek had four-foot banks, and grass grew on top of those. Stripping to her underwear, Cindy took her clothing in her arms and waded into the creek. The water was cold at first, and she shrank from it. But it felt warmer after a second, and she began to enjoy it.

As she waded, she located a chunk of log among the driftwood. And as soon as she was in shallow water on the other side of the creek, she acted swiftly. Throwing her clothes down on the bank, she picked up the log and dropped it across the narrow entrance to the pool.

Seeing her, the big fish swam frantically toward the creek. But they couldn't pass the log, and they did not like to stay in such shallow water. They swam back into the pool, dashed here and there, and finally came to rest almost where they had been before. Cindy proceeded with the next part of her plan.

She took the coil of wire from her jeans, picked up a long, dead branch, and tied the wire to its end. In the other end of the wire she made a sliding loop. Careful to ruffle the water no more than was necessary, she let her loop sink.

The first fish she touched on the nose, and that sent all of them into another panic. But they all came back again, and on Cindy's second try, the loop settled nicely over a fish. Cindy jerked the pole, tightened the loop, and yanked out a wriggling bass. One was not enough; she thought she herself could eat all fifteen of the big fish if only she had them—but after she caught one more, hunger triumphed.

Carrying the two fish and her clothes, she waded back across the creek, dressed, and went to camp. She knew what to do. She'd cleaned fish before, and there was still grease in the frying pan. Forty-five minutes later she called:

"Father!"

"Yes?" Mr. Simpson answered.

"Mr. Brent!" Cindy called.

"What do you want, Cindy?"

"Come on! Dinner's ready!"

Alec Comes

In the middle of the following afternoon Alec appeared on a hillock. He was driving Pete's horses and wagon with two of his father's mules hitched on behind, and following Sim Macklin, who drove his brother's wagon.

Without benefit of saddle or bridle, Cindy leaped on Sparkle. Guiding the roan pony with her knees, holding herself on by wrapping one hand in his mane, she raced to meet her brother. She waved to Sim and drew in beside Alec.

"Hi!" she called happily.

"Hi." Alec grinned.

"Was Mother worried?"

"About you?" Alec sniffed. "Huh! She was hoping you'd stay lost!"

"Alec!" Cindy begged. "Please tell me!"

"Well," Alec said, "she was a mite worried. But I found out the day you left that you were with Dad. Mother isn't worried any longer."

"How is Mindy?" Cindy pursued.

"Ha! You know what that crazy girl did? When you weren't there to take Mr. Brent's message, she took it. But she didn't know Thunder's an outlaw, so she rode him bareback. Can you imagine that?"

Cindy asked anxiously, "Was she hurt?"

"With Mindy, Thunder's gentle as a kitten," Alec assured her. He grinned again. "She wore some of my old jeans and a shirt for the ride, and now she wears them all the time."

Cindy got to the next important detail. "Did you bring food?" she asked eagerly.

"Yup."

"What kind?"

"Potatoes," Alec said.

"Wonderful!"

"Biscuits," said Alec.

"Gorgeous!" squealed Cindy.

"Beans," Alec said.

"Marvelous!"

"And bacon," Alec finished.

"Heavenly!" Cindy smacked her lips.

Alec looked at her sharply. "What's the matter with you, sis?"

"Matter!" Cindy said indignantly. "Do you know what we've been living on? Fish! Any more and I'll grow fins!"

"I like fish," Alec said.

"You can have 'em!" Cindy sighed. "I'll trade you my share for your portion of potatoes, biscuits, bacon, and beans! Um-m! I can hardly wait to start cooking! Did Mother send any dishes?"

"Think she'd expect us to cook without 'em?" Alec's eyes roved around the homestead. "Say! This looks like something!"

"It is something. Dad and I picked it."

"Huh," Alec sniffed. "Bet you had a lot to do with it."

"Nothing could have been done without me," Cindy said smugly.

"I'll switch off to Cal's place," Sim Macklin broke in, grinning.

"Thank you, Mr. Macklin," Cindy said. "I'll steer my brother home, and do come see us."

"I will," Sim promised.

He swung his wagon away. Cindy guided Alec in and slid off Sparkle. The roan pony tossed his head, kicked his heels, and went trotting off to join Sunshine and Pete's other pony. Jed Simpson came to the wagon, and beyond the oak grove Pete had left his work and was coming. Mr. Simpson smiled at his son.

"Hello, Alec!"

"Hi there, Dad!"

"How are your mother and sister?"

"Right as can be," Alec said. "Gramps and Granny have moved in with them, and Mother hopes you'll send for her soon."

"I'll do it as soon as things are ready," Mr. Simpson agreed.

"It better not be too long," Alec said. "Mother says she's coming anyhow, and Gramps knows the way."

"Hm-m," Mr. Simpson stroked his chin. "What did you bring?"

"Your plow, Mr. Brent's, spades, mattocks, saws, axes, nails." Alec listed the tools and supplies he had brought, and finished, "and Mother's dishes and stove along with plenty to eat."

Cindy said blissfully, "I'll fix a meal right away!"

"It's too early for supper," Alec protested.

"You," Jed Simpson told his son, "have not been living on unsalted fish for nearly two days. I suppose you brought harnesses for the mules?"

"Oh, sure. I didn't forget."

"Then the first thing we must do is plow a couple of furrows clear around this homestead. Afterwards we'll plant a vegetable garden."

"I'll plow the furrows!" Alec said eagerly. "Just show me where you want 'em!"

While their father showed Alec the corners, Cindy started preparing a meal. She couldn't fix any beans. They would have taken three hours, which was easily two and a half hours too long, but she bent over the skillet to sniff the aroma of frying bacon and lifted the top from the kettle a dozen times just to watch the potatoes bubbling.

While Mr. Simpson showed Alec the boundaries of their homestead, Pete unloaded both plows, unhitched the horses from the wagon and hitched them to his plow, and started plowing.

"Don't go too far," Cindy advised. "Dinner will be ready soon."

"I'll be ready too," Pete promised. "But there's about a month's work to be done, and it looks as though we'll have to do all of it this week."

Alec and Mr. Simpson came back, hitched the mules, and Alec started plowing furrows. Cindy tried the potatoes with a fork, discovered that they were soft clear through, and drained them. She added another small handful of salt to that which she had put in when the potatoes started cooking. Until she'd had to do without salt, she'd never known how much she could miss it or how important it was. When everything was ready, she called her father and Pete.