gth and breadth of Texas.

On reaching the Guadalupe River, a stop of two weeks had been made at
Gonzales, and then Mr. Radbury had obtained possession of a grant of
land embracing over five hundred acres, the tract lying on both sides
of the stream. The price paid for the land was ten cents per acre. This
is not to be wondered at, since land in other portions of the State was
sold as low as two cents per acre!

The three years spent in the wilderness had done wonders for all of the
members of the family. The hard work of clearing off the timber,
planting, and of building a cabin and a cattle shelter, had done much
to make Mr. Radbury forget his grief over the loss of his wife and
property, and the rough outdoor life had made Daniel Radbury "as tough
as a pine-knot," as he was wont to say himself. It had likewise done
much for little Ralph, who had been a thin and delicate lad of five
when leaving the old home in the magnolia grove in far-off Georgia.
Even yet Ralph was not as strong as Dan, but he was fast becoming so,
much to his parent's satisfaction.

Amos Radbury's venture had prospered from the start. The land was rich
and his crops were consequently heavy, and no disease reached his
cattle, which speedily grew to the number of several hundred heads. In
addition to his beeves he had nearly a hundred hogs, and during the
last year had taken to raising horses and mustangs, for the market at
Bexar, as San Antonio was commonly called.

The raising of mustangs had been a source of much satisfaction to the
boys, who speedily learned to ride so well that even the liveliest of
the animals failed to shake one or the other off, although, of course,
neither could do a thing when the beast got down and began to roll
over.

"It's immense, to ride like the wind!" Dan would cry. "There is no
better sport in the world! I don't wonder the Indians enjoy it so
much."

"Yes, the Indians enjoy it, and they'll enjoy getting our mustangs,
too, if we give them the chance," had been Mr. Radbury's reply. But so
far only one mustang had been taken, and that by a Comanche half-breed
named Hank Stiger. Stiger had been accused of the crime by Mr. Radbury,
but had pleaded his innocence, and the pioneer had dropped the matter
rather than have more trouble, since it was known that the half-breed
and the Comanches in the neighbourhood were closely related in all
their underhanded work. In those days it was no uncommon thing to hang
a horse