draw and galloped up to the cabin. "They
are sleeping on the claim," she said breathlessly. This meant that next
morning, as soon as the Land Office opened, one of them would be there
to slap a contest on the land, while the other held possession. It also
meant that when Rosie Carrigan arrived she would find her homestead
gone.

"What shall we do?" I asked anxiously.

Ida Mary considered for a moment. "One of us must be Rosie Carrigan,"
she decided. She ran out to hitch the team to the wagon while I
hurriedly dragged a few things out of the house and loaded them--things
such as an immigrant must carry with him, bedding, boxes, a traveling
bag or two. We threw them in the wagon, circled off a mile or two, and
then drove straight back onto the land. A few rods from the
claim-jumpers we drove a stake, hung a lantern on it, and began to
unhitch, shivering with excitement and apprehension.

The noise of our arrival roused the two men, who stirred, and then with
an exclamation got to their feet. We saw the flare of a match. One of
them had drawn out his watch and was looking at it. Under the
smoked-lantern light we looked at ours--it was ten minutes to twelve!

We heard them murmur to each other, but continued unhitching the horses,
dragging the hastily assembled articles out of the wagon. Then my heart
began to pound. One of the men walked over to us. He was short, burly,
heavy-jawed.

"Here, you can't stay here! Where do you think you are?" he demanded.

We made no answer, but the bed I contrived to make under his watching
eyes was a hopeless tangle.

"We're on this land ..." he blustered. He was trying to run a bluff, to
find out whether we were on the right quarter-section or whether, like
him, we were land-grabbers.

"I guess I'll have to have your identification," he said again. "What's
your name?"

"Rosie Carrigan," I answered, "from Ohio. What are you doing on my land,
anyway? You have no right here!"

He hesitated, weighing the situation and the possibilities.

"Get off!" I blazed at him.

He got. The two men rolled up their bedding and moved on, and Ida Mary
and I sat limply on the ground watching them go.

In case they should come back we decided to hold the land for the night,
gathered up the bedding, and slept in the wagon--when we slept.

At daybreak we were wakened by the rumble of a heavy-loaded wagon coming
slowly over the prairie behind a limping team. A tall, slim girl and a
slight boy sat