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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Say, wouldn't Younkins allow that this was rather comfortable-like, if he was to see it and compare it with his deerskin coverlet that he is so proud of?" "Well, Younkins's deerskin coverlet is paid for, and this isn't," said Charlie, grimly. But the light-hearted younger boys borrowed no trouble on that score. As Sandy said, laughingly, they were all fixed for the trip to St.
Younkins's wife, a pale, sallow, and anxious-looking woman, and Younkins's baby boy, chubby and open-eyed, welcomed the strangers without much show of feeling other than a natural curiosity.
The three boys were over at the Younkins cabin in quest of news from up the river, where, it was said, a party of California emigrants had been fired upon by the Indians. They found that the party attacked was one coming from California, not migrating thither. It brought the Indian frontier very near the boys to see the shot-riddled wagons, left at Younkins's by the travellers.
He's gone to the post; and you know that the people down at Soldier Creek told us that this was a good place to settle, because the post would be our protection in case of an Indian rising." Meanwhile, Sandy was blissfully and peacefully jogging along in the direction of the military post. Only one house stood between Younkins's and the fort; and that was Mullett's.
The proprietor looked curiously at him, as if wondering why so small a boy should turn up alone in that wilderness; and when the lad asked for letters for the families up the river, Mullett's, Sparkins's, Battles's, Younkins's, and his own people, the sutler said: "Be you one of them Abolitioners that have named your place after that man Whittier, the Abolition poet?
"No settlers anywhere?" cried Sandy, eagerly. "The next settlement west of here, if you can call it a settlement, is Fort Kearney, on the other side of the Platte. From here to there, there isn't so much as a hunter's camp, so far as I know." This was Younkins's last word, as he tumbled, half dressed, into his bunk in one corner of the cabin.
As the boys reluctantly ceased contemplating the fascinating Indian trail, and moved on behind the rest of the party, Charlie said: "I suppose we must make allowance for Younkins's prejudices. He is like most of the border men, who believe that all the good Indians are dead. If the Cheyennes and the Comanches could only tell their story in the books and newspapers, we might hear the other side."
He would be back by dark at the latest, for the days were now at about their longest, and the long summer day was just begun. At Younkins's cabin they met Hiram Battles, a neighbor who lived beyond the divide to the eastward, and who had just ridden over in search of some of his cattle that had strayed away, during the night before. Mr. Battles said he was "powerful worrited."
Somehow, word was sent across the river to the Whittier boys, as the good Younkins soon learned to call the Boy Settlers, and they went gladly over to Younkins's and got the precious letters and papers from home.
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