their own game.
We will move westward to Honnewell either this afternoon or tonight.
Get ready to go on whenever the signal is passed."

"But vot goot vill it do to vait by Honnvell?" questioned Carl
Humpendinck, a German boomer.

"We'll not wait very long there," answered Pawnee Brown.

So the word went around that the boomers would move in an hour. This was
not actually true, but it was necessary to spread some report of this
kind in order to make the slow ones hustle. If left to themselves these
few would not have gotten ready in two days.

"It's a move we are afther makin' at last, is it?" burst out Rosy
Delaney when Mike brought the news. "Sure, an' Oi'm ready, Moike
Delaney, but how are ye to git this wagon out av thet bog hole, Oi
dunno."

"Oi'll borry a horse," answered Mike. "It's Jack Rasco will lind me the
same."

Mike ran around to where Jack Rasco was in earnest conversation with a
stranger who had just come in from town. The stranger had brought a
letter from Nellie Winthrop, posted two days before, and saying when she
would arrive. The letter caused Rasco not a little worry, as so far the
girl had failed to appear.

"I haven't any horse to spare just now, Mike," he said; "but hold on,
you can have Billy, the mule, if you wish."

There was a little twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, but Mike didn't see
the twinkle and readily accepted the mule and led him over to where his
own turn-out stood.

"Moike Delaney, phot kind av a horse do yez call that?" demanded Rosy.

"It's a mule, ye ignoramus," he answered. "An' a good puller, I'll bet
me whiskers. Just wait till Oi hitch him beside the tame."

Billy was soon hitched up as Mike desired, and the Irishman proceeded to
urge him forward with his short whip.

It was then the fun began. Billy did not appreciate being called upon to
do extra work. Instead of pulling, he simply turned around, tangling up
and breaking the harness, and began to kick up the black prairie dirt
with both hind hoofs.

"Oh, the villain!" spluttered Rosy Delaney, who received the first
installment of dirt full in her eyes and mouth. "Moike Delaney, ye made
him do that a-purpose!" and she shook her fist at her husband. "Ye
bould, bad mon!"

"Oi did not," he ejaculated. "Git back there, ye baste!" he added, and
tried to hit Billy with his whip. The knowing mule dodged and, turning
swiftly, planted a hoof in Mike's stomach so slickly that the Irishman
went heels over head into