night, when he heard that I was gone, that the hotel at the post is an
awful place, full of gamblers and thieves. Two or three men that had
money have disappeared there, and never been seen since. The Swede says
he thinks the proprietor isn't any better than he should be."

"Oh, that Swede's a regular croaker," replied the eldest brother.
"'Fraid as death of his own shadow. I can take care of you and myself
and the money to boot. Needn't to fret while I've got my pistols handy."

"Well, mother says," added the little girl, "that she hopes nothing
happens to the money, because it'll finish putting us in as good shape
as we were before the fire. She doesn't think anybody'd hurt us,
exactly."

Nothing more was said about the hotel after that, and the little girl
soon forgot her disquiet in the pleasures of the trip. She had made it
but two or three times since the return from her christening, and had
always gone so fast in the light wagon or the buckboard that she had no
time to enjoy the changing scenery. Now they were not keeping to the
main road, and she saw landmarks and farms that were new to her as they
traveled from the West Fork to the "Jim," and on to the Missouri.

That night the eldest brother pitched camp on a hillock not far from the
herd and well out of way of the mosquitos. To make the little girl's
safety certain, he put her blankets at the center of a square that was
roped in by lariats, the stakes being black willows cut from a clump on
the river bank. She lay down with the dogs beside her, but, unused to
the strangeness of her bed, slept little. The eldest brother stayed
with the herd, so she passed the long hours before midnight looking up
at the stars and thinking.

She could hear the yelping of some coyotes that were cautiously
reconnoitering from a neighboring bluff. When they came near, the dogs
sprang up and challenged them, and soon their cries died away as they
slunk down a deep coulee. The dogs quieting again, she caught the sound
of faint movements and calls in the grass. An owl hooted, and it was so
like the signal-cry of some prowling Blackfeet who had visited the farm
one night that she was startled and sat up. A bird chirped and a rabbit
hopped by. Down among the cattle a steer coughed, or grunted as it got
awkwardly to its feet. And there was an occasional click of horn against
horn as an animal moved its head. At last all the sounds blended and
faded, and she fell asleep, lulled by th