well
or ill at ease as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is
ruffled by small obstructions and frequent interruptions."

Such philosophy was for Franklin unformulated. Care sat not on his
heart. There were at first no problems in all the world for him. It
was enough to feel this warm sun upon the cheek, to hear the sigh of
the wind in the grasses, to note the nodding flowers and hear the larks
busy with their joys. The stirring of primeval man was strong, that
magnificent rebellion against bonds which has, after all, been the
mainspring of all progress, however much the latter may be regulated by
many intercurrent wheels. It was enough for Franklin to be alive. He
stood straight, he breathed deep. This infection was in his blood.

"Think you, Ned, me boy," said Battersleigh, one day, as they stood at
the tent door--"think you, this old gray world has been inhabited a
million years, by billions of people, and yet here we have a chance to
own a part of it, each for himself, here, at this last minute of the
world's life! Do you mind that, what it means? Never you think a
chance like that'll last forever. Yet here we are, before the law, and
almost antedatin' the social ijee. It's the beginning man, it's the
very beginnin' of things, where we're standin' here, this very blessed
day of grace. It's Batty has travelled all his life, and seen the
lands, but never did Batty live till now!"

"It's grand," murmured Franklin, half dreamily and unconsciously
repeating the very words of his friend, as he had done before.

Yet Franklin was well bitten of the ambition germ. It would serve him
to run only in the front rank. He was not content to dream. He saw
the great things ahead, and the small things that lay between. In a
week he was the guiding mind in the affairs of the odd partnership
which now sprang between him and his friend. Battersleigh would have
lived till autumn in his tent, but Franklin saw that the need of a
house was immediate. He took counsel of Curly, the cowboy, who proved
guardian and benefactor. Curly forthwith produced a workman, a giant
Mexican, a half-witted _mozo_, who had followed the cow bands from the
far Southwest, and who had hung about Curly's own place as a sort of
menial, bound to do unquestioningly whatever Curly bade. This curious
being, a very colossus of strength, was found to be possessed of a
certain knowledge in building houses after the fashion of that
land--