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Updated: June 14, 2025
Dismounting, he got down upon his hands and knees and examined the last hoof-prints with extreme care. The examination lasted for fully ten minutes. No white man could follow a trail better than this leader of the boomers, yet for the time being he was baffled. Yellow Elk had led the horses into the water, but the trail did not extend across the stream.
Secreted in a tree or elsewhere he could fire a dozen shots or so into the air, and this would arouse both cavalrymen and boomers to think that actual hostilities had already started, and then neither side would longer hold off. "When will the boomers move?" was one of the cavalryman's questions. "They are waiting for Pawnee Brown," said the spy. "Where is he?" "Somewhere about the country."
The letter had contained Nellie's photograph, and he showed it to Pawnee Brown as he asked for permission to leave his work of assisting the boomers to be prepared for a moving in order to pay Arkansas City another visit. "Go on, Jack. You're my right-hand man, but I'll manage somehow without you," answered the great scout.
"He is one scout of a thousand. No wonder all the boomers asked him to lead them in this expedition." Ten minutes later Dick was drying himself at the fire in a house near by. Hearing his tale of misfortune, the man who took him in insisted upon treating him to some hot coffee, which did a good bit toward making him feel once more like himself.
But now the pioneers, or boomers as they were commonly called, were tired of waiting for the passage of a law which they knew must come sooner or later, and they intended to go ahead without legal authority. It was a dark, tempestuous night, with the wind blowing fiercely and the rain coming down at irregular intervals.
The gambling resort at which Stillwater was holding forth was soon reached, and the three entered, to find the place comfortably crowded by boomers, men-about-town, cowboys and gamblers, all anxious to add to their wealth without working. As Pawnee Brown surveyed the assemblage his lip curled with a sarcasm which was by no means displaced.
The example set was followed by several others, and for some years a conflict, not particularly creditable to the Government, went on. No law was discovered to punish the boomers and thus put a final end to the invasions. All that could be done was to drive the families out as fast as they went in, a course of action far more calculated to excite disorder than to quell it.
The street swarmed with boomers. All talk was of lots, of land. Hour by hour as the sun sank, prospectors returned to the hotel from their trips into the unclaimed territory, hungry and tired but jubilant, and as they assembled in my father's store after supper, their boastful talk of "claims secured" made me forget all my other ambitions.
And rather against his wishes Mortimer Arbuckle had consented. Dick saw his father was in no mental condition to locate claims, form a new mining company, and do other labor of this sort, and trusted that the days to be spent with the boomers would make him much stronger in both body and mind. "Do you think the robber thought of the deeds when he robbed you?" went on Dick, after a pause.
"Yes, Dunbar," answered the great scout. "Were you getting anxious about me?" "Well, just a trifle, Pawnee." "The camp must move at once. Send the word around immediately, Dunbar." "Whar do we move to?" "To Honnewell. As soon as all hands are at Honnewell I'll send out further orders." In less than half an hour the immense wagon train organized by the boomers located in Kansas was on the way.
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