again when they wanted a horse broken. That settled
us and the horse breaking. The experiences I gained in riding during
these times, often stood me in good stead in after years during my wild
life on the western plains. Mr. Williams of course, heard of my last
wild ride, but instead of being angry, he seemed to see the funny side
of it, which I could not.

[Illustration: Black Highwayman]

The spectators wondered how in the world I ever escaped a broken neck
and I have often wondered how I escaped in after years from situations
that seemed to be sure death. But escape I did and am now hale and
hearty, without pain, with muscles like iron and able at any time to run
a hundred yards in eleven seconds or jump a six foot fence.

CHAPTER V.

HOME LIFE. PICKING BERRIES. THE PIGS COMMIT LARCENY. NUTTING. WE GO TO
MARKET. MY FIRST DESIRE TO SEE THE WORLD. I WIN A HORSE IN A RAFFLE. THE
LAST OF HOME.

I now settled down to the work around the farm and the problem of making
a living for those dependent on me. The crop was all in and after
attending to such work around home as had to be done, we found a source
of revenue in gathering berries for market. Large quantities of black
berries and others grew wild in the woods near by. And they always found
a ready market. With small pails and a big basket mother and I would
start out after the work at home was done. Reaching the woods we would
sit under the bushes and fill the pails, then empty them into the big
basket until that was full which usually comprised our day's work.

One day, wishing to secure a large quantity of berries for market, we
went early in the morning and on reaching the woods we placed the big
basket in what we thought a safe place, and after some hours of
industrious work, the big basket was full of nice ripe blackberries. We
then proceeded to fill our pails again which would be sufficient for the
day. This accomplished, we prepared to start for home. But when mother
went to take the big basket it was empty.

The stray pigs had found them and committed larceny. Mother felt so bad
she cried. We had put in a hard day's work for nothing. It had been our
intention to take them to town on the morrow and buy something for
Sunday, but now the fruit of our labor was gone and the disappointment
was great. I looked at mother, then at the empty basket and did not know
for which to feel most sorry. So I said, "Well, there is no use grieving
over spilt milk.