name?"

"We never did name him; you see we had kind of run out of boys' names.
We just called him Buddy."

"I can find a name for him," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. "Is there a
Joseph in the family?" Hettie said no. "Well, then, he is named
Joseph Bolton O'Shaughnessy, and I'll have them both baptized as soon
as we get to Green River."

So in the morning we start with two new members. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is
very happy. I am so glad myself that I can hardly express myself. We
are _all_ happy except Mr. Murry; he has at last given up hopes, and
gone. Mr. Haynes growls a little about having to travel along with a
rolling nursery, but he is just bluffing. I am longing to see Junior.
We have not heard one word since we left them, and I am so homesick
for mother and my boy. And _you_, best of friends, when shall I see
your beloved face? To-morrow night we shall camp at Ten Trees and we
shall be one day nearer home.

With much love,
ELINORE RUPERT STEWART.

XII

A STAMPEDE

IN CAMP ON THE DESERT,
October 19.

MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND,--

It is with a chastened, humble heart that I begin this letter; I have
stood face to face with tragedy and romance, and to me one is as
touching as the other, but you will know better when I tell you what I
mean. We _all_ bustled about to get started from Newfork. Now that we
had started, all were homesick. Just ahead of us was a drove of two
thousand steers being driven to the railroad to be shipped. I advise
you to keep ahead of such drives when you take such a trip, because
the trampling of so many feet makes a road almost impassable. What had
been snow in the mountains had been rain on the desert, and we found
the going decidedly bad. A rise of a hill would give us, now and
then, a glimpse of a slow-moving, dark-colored mass of heaving forms,
and the desert breezes brought to our ears the mournful lowing of the
poor creatures. Sometimes, too, we could hear a snatch of the cowboys'
songs. It was all very beautiful and I would have enjoyed it hugely
except that my desire to be home far outran the wagon and I felt like
a prisoner with clogs.

We nooned at the cabin of Timothy Hobbs, but no one was at home; he at
last had gone "back East" for Jennie. About mid-afternoon the boss of
the cow outfit came up on a splendid horse. He was a pleasant fellow
and