626 
THE RURAL NEW-YOKKEK 
April 25, 
their wrapping and buttoned the package 
inside his jumper. 
When Tom Miller paid them off in 
real green money, the boys could hardly 
contain themselves. 
“I’ve only paid the other men two 
fifty a day, but I’m going to make your 
wad an even hundred apiece, for your 
the bang uppest workers I’ve ever had 
in my kit,” and Tom Miller shook both 
cordially by the hand. “Now you’re both 
engaged for next Fall, remember.” 
Riding slowly homeward in the crisp 
October morning, with Red and Roan as 
sleek as a pair of kittens, Norm said, 
reluctantly, feeling himself almost like a 
traitor to his own traditions, “Red and 
Roan are all right for oxen—but if we 
get any crop at all we’ve got to have 
some horses another year.” 
“Yes,” Nate agreed joyously. “We 
ought to have them before Spring work. 
We can’t afford not to have them, and 
we’ve got to have a cow and a pig.” 
“There won’t be any paid work this 
Winter,” Norm cautioned. 
“Oh. for money, to go on and develop 
things! I never supposed it cost any¬ 
thing to farm, but I’m going to get the 
biggest bone cutter I can find with part 
of my money, and the rest you can blow 
in, to suit yourself.” 
“Bosh, on a bone cutter, you might 
better buy your Winter flannels,” Norm 
grouched. But he looked indulgently at 
Nate as he sat. with his shoulders nearer 
squared than he had ever carried them 
before. 
They stopped in the city for a little 
rest, and fed the oxen, and themselves 
and then started on the home stretch, 
for miles they went silently, dreaming, 
thinking, thrilling with the joy of life, 
and all its gladness, for some way this 
adventure on the plains never dulled, 
never lost its zest or fullness. 
“Why—ee—This begins to look like 
home, we’re almost home—oh. the home 
trail, the home trail,” chanted Nate joy¬ 
ously. 
“It does look good, even that shale 
bank, and the hill and all—why—how 
queer things look—that isn't our house 
on the hill!” Norm sat up wide-eyed, 
and Nate stared incredulously. 
“It certainly isn't the shack we left, 
but it’s our place,” Nate cried, startled. 
Jim Maynard came ruunning out to 
meet them, for he had sighted the oxen 
far away on the plains. 
“Where in heavenly hades, have you 
been?" Jim inquired indignantly. “Ilow 
do you expect a fellow to hold your land 
for you, and you traipse off like this? 
How was I to know you were coming 
back? Your claim is jumped. A follow 
by the name of James is on it, shanty, 
cow and all. 11 is shanty has blown down 
three times, but it hasn’t discouraged him 
any, lie’s set it up again.” 
Jim looked at the boys knowingly, and 
laughed, but the faces of neither Nate 
nor Norm showed any understanding. 
“You see,” Jim explained definitely, 
“the wind rose very suddenly three times 
while the tenderfoot was away, and the 
shanty fell all to pieces.” 
“Oh,” gasped Nate, “I see, you fel¬ 
lows pulled it down.” 
“I should call it a very-local-luirry- 
cane,” Norm admitted slowly, the humor 
of the situation dawning on his perturbed 
mind. 
“He’s got possession, and possession 
is nine points of the law anywhere and 
about ten here,” Jim said gloomily. 
“It looks pretty bad,” Norm admitted 
gravely. 
“Is he religious?” Nate inquired naive¬ 
ly. “Let’s go .along and have a little 
Sunday school talk with him anyway.” 
CHAPTER V. 
THE INDIAN UPRISING. 
“We’ll just jog along, and have a lit¬ 
tle Sunday School talk with him,” Nate 
reiterated significantly. 
Jim, scenting some break of the usual 
monotony, jumped into the wagon and 
crouched down out of sight, where he 
might hear and yet not be seen. Norm 
drove up to the newcomers shanty and 
stopped. 
“Hulloo!” shouted Nate cheerfully. 
The door opened and a short, de¬ 
termined looking individual appeared, 
looking askance at the two boys. 
“Got any chickens to sell?” Nate in¬ 
quired blandly, with his most fatuous 
look of innocence and friendliness. “I 
see you have some fine lookers here.” 
“Naw,” replied the man, “I’ve been 
eating all I could spare. I have some 
hens setting though, and maybe later if 
you wanted to get a pair or two—My 
name’s James, John C. .Tames.” 
“You don’t happen to have any frame 
house you want to dispose of do you?” 
“Nary one,” Mr. James negatived, with 
a sharp look at Nate’s impassive face. 
“If that’s the case, you’d better tote 
that one you’re in off this place, for this 
land belongs to me and I’ve got the pa¬ 
pers to show for it. Besides I can prove 
that you’ve been stealing my chickens 
and eating them, by your own admitting.” 
Nate’s voice was still bland and indul¬ 
gent, and a pleasant smile wreathed his 
ingenuous face. 
“I can prove,” Mr. James countered 
sharply, “that you haven’t lived on this 
place, nor fulfilled the law concerning 
it. I’ve got possession and I’m going to 
keep it. It’s a good grazing place for 
my cow. That shale bank hain’t no good 
for anything else.” There was a furtive 
glance at the shale bank, where Mr. 
James had evidently been digging some. 
“Shall we let him have it, brother?” 
Nate turned to Norm inquiringly. “He 
says it isn’t any good anyway—and yet 
he seems to want it!” musingly. 
“Why yes, I guess we may as well let 
him have it.” Norm paused, and Mr. 
James looked pleased at his decision, 
which Norm modified in time by adding 
casually, “Till tomorrow, then I’ll be 
bound he’ll be taking kindly to moving 
off.” 
“That’s the word. We’ll give you 
time to pack up. and dust out decently,” 
Nate said, and then scanning the sky, he 
remarked drily, “It looks to me as 
though this would be an awfully un¬ 
healthy place for you after tomorrow. 
I’m positive that by night there’ll be a 
tornado—or SOMETHING!” There was 
a firm set to Nate’s lips, although he 
spoke in an easy, bantering tone. 
“Enough said,” Norm agreed. “Till 
tomorrow then !” and both boys touched 
their caps to Mr. James who seemed al¬ 
most at the point of spontaneous com¬ 
bustion. “I’ll sally forth and mosey on,” 
Norm said nonchalantly; turning Red 
and Roan Norm drove down into the lit¬ 
tle valley by the creek, and unhitched, 
tethering his oxen in the rich grass. 
“What are you going to do?” Jim in¬ 
quired admiringly, creeping out from his 
hiding place. 
"Do?” stormed Norm. “We’re going 
to hold, this land. We’ve got to fix up 
better anyway. I’ve got some lumber 
right here, and I'm going to town tomor¬ 
row and get another load, and if that 
critter isn’t off that place when we get 
back, he’ll have to take his medicine, 
that’s all.” 
Nate looked at Norm admiringly, but 
said drily, “Don’t let your angry pas¬ 
sions rise, Normy. Our esteemed tenant 
is scared plum out of his wits.” 
“Scared?” snorted Norm. “He’s just 
about as scared as a bulldog with a bone, 
worried by a terrier. He’s got a chin as 
square as a mansard roof.” 
“La, me!” responded Nate daintily, 
“and I’m hoodooed with a dimple,” and 
he put one slim, brown hand up to the 
offending beauty spot in his own chin, 
which was rather good to look at if 
nothing more, “I wish I could fill in that 
ornamental cavity,” Nate added discon¬ 
solately. 
“I have a cavity much greater, and less 
ornamental, which I shall proceed to fill 
up with bread and bacon,” Norm said 
savagely. “Now stop your being funny 
and take hold there, you graduated cook 
you !” 
“Correct,” Nate replied still pleasantly, 
“but. oh, my gizzard! If Mr. James don’t 
get icicles on his tenderloin before mid¬ 
night tomorrow, I miss my guess.” Nate 
was busy making a little fire and slicing 
thin slices of bacon. Then toasting some 
crisply, handed it to Norm. “Assuage 
your grief, and may your good nature 
ever be more !” 
“He’s been living intemperately high, 
for the last month and he’s got delirium 
tremens as a result. He’ll be seeing 
things in a minute.” Norm spoke gruffly, 
but he looked at Nate with a look as full 
of adoration as can be put into one pair 
of human eyes. 
“I see!” Nate paused, a piece of bacon 
in midair. “Why, I heard something 
about Indians and ghost dances, in the 
city to-day. Did I hear it or is it merely 
the nightmare of good living, gone to my 
brain?” Another long pause, in which 
all three boys ate bread and bacon, and 
drank coffee to their heart’s content. 
“Hey,” cried Nate, “but I have it, I 
have it sure!” But what he had he did 
not say. If there had been anyone to 
see, they would have seen three boys with 
heads close together, and with voices so 
low, they could scarcely be heard above 
their breathing, and finally Jim crept 
along the valley and disappeared, keeping 
well out of sight of any eagle eyes that 
might have been watching in the shanty. 
The next morning long before light, 
Norm started for the city, while Nate by 
means of a long detour reached the back 
of Jim Maynard’s shanty, where he found 
Jim, himself wide awake and listening 
for him. 
“You take my horse,” Jim whispered, 
and then his voice sank so low that 
none but Nate close by could hear a 
sound, but in a few minutes, Nate rode 
off with the horse’s hoofs muffled with 
grain sacks, carrying carefully, a couple 
of cans that were labelled, “Paint.” 
About eight o’clock a foam-flecked 
steed drew up in front of Jim’s shanty. 
There was a wild “Halloo!” which 
brought not only Jim, but Mr. James to 
the open. Whereat, the new-comer, 
waved his arms wildly, crying out. in an 
excited voice. “The Indians, the In¬ 
dians ! There’s been ghost dances for 
three days and nights, and that is a sure 
sign that”—the voice paused significantly. 
“Indians! And you’re out warning 
the settlers!” gasped Jim. 
“I’m pulling out, and warning as I 
pass along—I’d hate to think of this 
country swimming with blood and reek¬ 
ing with bodies of the settlers!” There 
was horror in the voice, and the man’s 
face was unnaturally white. 
Jim gave a shrill whistle and waved 
to Mr. James, and that gentleman hur¬ 
ried to the spot, for the conversation, 
had been excited and quite loud enough 
for him to catch its import. 
“Indians.” Jim ejaculated hoarsely, 
“Indian up-rising out beyond the river— 
ghost dances”—and with a hurried look 
backward, the rider put spurs to his 
horse and plunged away. 
(Continued next month. ) 
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102 
The Comfort of “5130” 
Begins with the Pattern 
One reason why No. 5130 Cloth- 
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This label on 
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hen you write advertisers mention The R. N.-Y. and you’ll get a 
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