for lodging and
eating quarters, small tents dotted the outskirts. People were bringing
their own camping equipment, and I might add that only those who had
such foresight, slept during those turbulent days.

The daily train was an event in these frontier towns, its coming watched
by most of the inhabitants. Now five and six a day roared in, spilled
500 to 800 passengers into the packed streets, and roared away again. As
the heavily loaded trains met or passed each other along the route the
excited crowds called jovially to one another, "Suckers! Suckers!" With
but 4000 claims, the chance to win was slim.

On the station platform, in the thick of the crowds, were the Indians.
After all, it appeared, they were learning from the white man. This time
they had come in an enlightened and wholly commercial spirit. Brave in
paint and feathers and beads, they strolled about, posing for the
landseekers--for 50 cents a picture.

A maze of last-minute activity was under way before the stroke of
midnight. Telephone companies installed additional equipment and
service. Telegraph wires were being strung up. Expert men were being
rushed out from Kansas City and Omaha to take care of the flood of words
that would soon go pouring out to the nation--telling the story of the
gamble for land.

A magazine editor, notebook in hand, moved from one group of seekers to
another, asking: "Do you think Taft will be elected?" He didn't seem to
be getting far. On the eve of a presidential election a people was
turning to the soil for security. "Do you think Taft will be elected?"
the editor repeated patiently. "Who gives a damn?" shouted a steel
worker from Philadelphia.

A train lumbered in heavily from Chicago, fourteen coaches, crowded to
standing room only, men and women herded and tagged like sheep. They
stumbled out onto the dark platform, jostled among the mob already
assembled, exhausted, dirty, half-asleep, yet shaking with excitement.
That high-pitched excitement, of course, was partly due to strain and
suspense, partly to the gambling spirit in which the lottery was carried
out. But for the most part the crowd generated its own excitement
through its great numbers and consequent rivalry, as it entered the dark
streets with their glaring lights, the mad confusion of shouting and
band playing.

They came from Chicago and jerkwater towns in Nebraska, from farms and
steel mills, from the stage and the pulpit. School teachers and farm