"It's the western winds and the hot sun that's tanned those
soldiers," said Jack. "We'll look just that way, too, before we
get back."
Ollie was half inclined to believe this astonishing statement
at first, but concluded that his uncle was joking.
[Illustration: Sad Result of Dishonesty]
We went into camp on the banks of the Minichaduza River, a
little brook which flows into the Niobrara from the northwest.
All night it gurgled and bubbled almost under our wheels. A man
stopped to chat with us as we sat around our camp-fire after
supper. We told him of our experience in getting the hay the
night before. He laughed and said: "Ever steal any of your horse
feed?"
"We haven't yet," answered Jack. "We try to be reasonably
honest."
"Some don't, though," replied the man. "Most of 'em that are
going West in a covered wagon seem to think corn in the field is
public property. A fellow camped right here one afternoon last
fall. He was out of feed, and took a grain sack on one arm and a
big Winchester rifle on the other, and went over to old Brown's
cornfield.
Pages:
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88