the corral path, saying jubilantly to myself: "Oh, ho,
Mr. Horton! But it isn't left alone! The homestead isn't left alone.
I'm here, I'm here!"

Jessie was half crazed with pain, no wonder that she had forgotten,
but why should it have escaped my mind, until almost too late, that,
under the homestead laws, the laws by which we hoped to obtain a title
to this beautiful valley ranch, the house must not be left untenanted
for a single night, until the deed to it was in the claimant's
possession. We had heard so much about the homestead laws from poor
father that we accounted ourselves quite able to comply with them
all--yet--how nearly we had come to leaving the house vacant that
night!

And it was Mr. Horton, of all others, who had urged us to do so, and
he understood the homestead laws; no one better.

The thought of our narrow escape was still with me when, towards
evening, I heard the tinkle of old Cleo's bell, coming musically down
the mountain side, and went out to the corral to let down the bars.
"After all," I thought, looking back at the house as I stood waiting
by the bars, "it might not have been a complete success for Mr. Horton
if he had got us all away from home for the night. The house and
furniture would be pretty good proof to the land agent of the honesty
of our intentions."

CHAPTER V

AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE

I had never been left entirely without human companionship before,
not even for a night, and I soon began to wonder at the amount of
loneliness that can be compressed into a few hours. Before the
afternoon was half spent I was mentally reviewing the history of
Robinson Crusoe, and was feeling an intense sympathy for that
resourceful castaway.

I lingered over my evening tasks, and, sooner than seemed possible,
dusk came and night was at hand, so at last I reluctantly closed and
made fast the kitchen door. Reluctantly, for to-night, this common and
necessary precaution seemed, somehow, to cut me adrift from all chance
of human aid, and by this time my mind was running on wild tales of
bandits, of lonely camps, and the far sweep of the cattle ranges
where, in darkened hollow or at the foot of shadowy buttes, great
gray wolves lay in wait for their midnight prey, indifferent as to
whether the prey consisted of cattle or cattleman.

Still, I am sure that I was not really cowardly; it was only the
unusual situation that set me thinking of these things. Father's light
rifle hung in i