Little
happened worthy of mention in the week which it took us to traverse
this distance. The weather became warmer and was pleasant most of
the way. On the last night out it snowed again a little and grew
colder. We were still a long day's drive from Prairie Flower, but
we determined to make that port even if it took half the night.
[Illustration: Well! Well! Well!]
It was ten o'clock when we saw the lights of the town.
"Here we are," said Jack, "and I vote we've had a good time,
and that we forgive Old Blacky his temper, and old Browny and
Snoozer their sleepiness, and Ollie his questions, and the
rancher his general incompetence."
"And the cook his pancakes!" cried Ollie. We stopped a little
way in front of Squire Poinsett's grocery, and Jack picked up the
big revolver and fired the six shots into the air. The pony had
come alongside the wagon, and Snoozer had his head over the
dash-board. Half a dozen people came running out, including
Grandpa Oldberry, wearing red yarn mittens and carrying a
lantern. He held up the light and looked at us.
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