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Updated: June 23, 2025
Lark's ranch was the first one below the head-gates, lying between the river and the ditch, an old homesteader's claim, sub-irrigated by means of rude dams ponding the natural sloughs. The worn-out land, never drained, was foul and sour, lapsing into swamps, the black alkali oozing and spreading from pools in its boggy pastures.
He laid his hand on the old homesteader's sagging thin shoulder and poured the comfort of a strong man's sympathy into his empty eyes. "Go on back, Tom, and look after the others," he said. "Do your chores by dark, morning and night, and stick close to cover all days and watch for him. I'll keep on looking. I started to get that old hyena, and I'll get him. Go on home."
Even if improving the place does go slowly, it is that much done to stay done. Whatever is raised is the homesteader's own, and there is no house-rent to pay. This year Jerrine cut and dropped enough potatoes to raise a ton of fine potatoes. She wanted to try, so we let her, and you will remember that she is but six years old.
Perpetual Missionaries, they continue the work when the apostle has passed to another field. They keep the light of faith burning bright in many a lonely homesteader's cabin on the Prairies of our Great West.
No man knew what turn the ingenuity of desperation might give the human mind. The hunted might go out in one last splendid blaze of courage, or he might cringe and beg, with white face and rolling eyes. In the case of Macdonald, Dalton anticipated something unusual. He had tasted that unaccountable homesteader's spirit in the past.
It consisted of the Halfway House, which combined the functions of a general store, a post office, a restaurant, and a news center for the whole community, with the barns and corrals of the old McClure ranch. And set off a few rods from the house there was another building, a small crude affair that looked like a homesteader's shack. The first time I saw that sign, I laughed aloud.
At once the tent seemed to jump across the desert to a point a short distance ahead of them. Hiram's lips parted and a snort of surprise escaped him. Before the front of the tent, on a pole planted there, was a big sign composed of black letters against a white background. And this is what Hiram Hooker read: The Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey Orr Tweet, President. Walk In
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