follow."

There was commotion in every corral, where long-haired men in leggings
and with feathered ornaments in their hats, were awkwardly breaking
fiery ponies to drive, for teams were in sharp demand. The young men who
formerly raced horses, for lack of other things to do, and in order not
to die of inertness, now became the hilarious teamsters of each valley.
Every person, white or red, who could give instruction in ditching and
planting, was employed each hour of the day. The various camps were as
busy as ant-hills, and as full of cheer as a flock of magpies.

Curtis was everywhere, superintending the moving of barns, the building
of cabins, and the laying out of lands. Each night he returned to his
bed so tired he could not lie flat enough, but happy in the knowledge
that some needed and permanent improvement had that day been made.
Lawson, faithful to his post, came on from Washington, and was a comfort
in ways less material than wielding a hoe. He went about encouraging the
people at their work, and his words had the quality of a poem.

"You see how it is!" he said. "You need not despair. It is not true that
the redmen are to vanish from the earth. They are now to be happy and
have plenty of food. The white people, at last, have found out the way
to help you."

Maynard got a short leave of absence, and came over to see "the hustle,"
as he called it, and to visit Jennie, who still refused to leave her
post, though she had practically consented to his proposal. "We will
see," she had said. "If George marries, then I will feel free to go with
you; but not now."

Maynard expressed the same astonishment as ever. "A man may fight a
people a lifetime and never really know 'em. Now I consider it
marvellous the way these devils work."

Calvin, after his recovery, came seldom to the agency. He recognized the
power and the fitness of Captain Maynard's successful courtship, and
though Jennie wrote twice inviting him to call, he did not come, and did
not even reply till she had almost forgotten her own letters. In a very
erratic and laborious screed he conveyed his regrets. "I'm powfle bizzy
just now. The old man is gone East, an' that thros all the work of the
ranch onto me. Ime just as mutch obliged." Jennie did not laugh at this
letter; she put it away with a sigh--"Poor boy!"

XXXV

THE BATTLE WITH THE WEEDS

Between the planting and the reaping lay the sun-smitten summer-time and
a battle with the wee