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Updated: June 16, 2025
When they reached the rise of ground overlooking the field, Oscar, still unable to speak, turned and looked at his father with a face of grief. Uncle Aleck, gazing on the wreck and ruin, said only, "A whole summer's work gone!" "A dearly bought buffalo-hunt!" remarked Younkins. "That's so, neighbor," added Mr.
As soon as the lad had reached the highest part of the swale, he turned around and swung his arms excitedly, too far off to make his voice heard. He jumped up and down, whirled his arms, and acted altogether like a young lunatic. "The boy sees buffalo," said Younkins, with a smile of calm amusement. He could hardly understand why anybody should be excited over so commonplace a matter.
Somebody had told the boys that the juice of watermelons boiled to a thick syrup was a very good substitute for molasses. Younkins told them that, back in old Missouri, "many families never had any other kind of sweetenin' in the house than watermelon molasses." So Charlie made an experiment with the juice boiled until it was pretty thick.
Hot coffee and corn-bread were ready for the newcomers, and Younkins, with a tender regard for the lads, who were unaccustomed to milk when at home, brought out a big pan of delicious cool milk for their refreshment. Altogether, as Sandy confessed to himself, an Indian scare was not without its fun.
"I should think you would be afraid to leave your wife and baby all alone there in the wilderness," said Sandy, regarding his new friend with evident admiration. "No neighbor nearer than Hunter's Creek, did you say? How far off is that?" "Well, a matter of six miles-like," replied Younkins. "It isn't often that I do leave them alone over night; but then I have to once in a while.
"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.
Up north and east of yer, on the head-waters of the Big Blue, the Cheyennes used to live," Younkins pronounced it Shyans, "and as soon as the grass began to start in the spring, so as to give feed to their ponies and to the buffalo, they would come down this yere way for game.
Sandy hugged his brother Charlie before he dropped off to sleep, and whispered in his ear, "We're on the frontier at last! It's just splendid!" Next day, leaving their cattle and wagon at the Younkins homestead, the party, piloted by their good-natured future neighbor, forded the Fork and went over into the Promised Land.
The boys explained to the astonished and grieved Younkins how they had been wrecked, as it were, almost in sight of the home port. The good man nodded his head gravely, as he listened, softly jingled the few gold coins in his trousers pocket, and said: "Well, boys, this is the wust scald I ever did see. If I wasn't so dreadful hard up, I'd give ye what I've got." "That's not to be thought of, Mr.
"The Cheyennes have risen!" exclaimed Charlie. "And we have let Sandy go down to the post alone!" Both of the men laughed a little unpleasantly, it seemed to the boys, although Younkins was the soul of amiability and mildness.
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