"If you have any questions," Pete said, "I'll try to answer them."
"Thank you, Mr. Brent. Please tell me how close we are to Oklahoma."
"We could almost throw a stone into it from this wagon," Pete said.
"Then why," Mindy asked, "can't the first people across simply stake the
first claims they find?"
"They can do just that, and some of them will," Pete said. "But a great
many people here on the border know where the best claims are. They're
old-time Boomers, or they've been in before, or in some cases, a group
of people have banded together to send a scout on ahead to find them a
place. The really hot race will be for the best land."
"I see," said Mindy, "but you speak of claims. How are people to know
where their claim ends and another begins?"
"All the homesteads have been surveyed and marked," Pete said. "They
are, of course, a hundred and sixty acres each. Many of the town
sites--they're three hundred and twenty acres--have been decided in
advance too. But they haven't been measured into lots, and there's
going to be trouble. People will stake anything, I believe, then find
out they've located in a street, or on school property, or something
like that."
"How will all these people get the things they need?" Mindy pursued.
"The railroad you came in on, the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe, runs
through the territory. Freight wagons can take supplies from their
depots."
"Will everyone get land?" Mindy questioned.
Pete said, "They can't, because there isn't that much. With just under
two million acres being opened up, most of which will be 160-acre
homesteads, that makes something less than fifteen thousand claims. At a
rough guess, even if you include all the town lots, there are three
times as many people lined up on the border as there are claims. Who's
going to get the land?"
"The strong and fast," Cindy said.
"And the smart and lucky," Pete added. "That's pretty much the way it
always has been and always will be. In the advance of progress, and this
is progress, somebody usually gets left behind. No doubt, many of the
people who are able to stake no claim will feel cheated. No doubt the
Indians will think they've been cheated, when cities and towns spring
up. Especially the Seminoles. They used to own this area--didn't
actually give it up till a few months ago. But with farmers who know the
right farming methods, that land will go a long way toward helping feed
a hungry world. The Indians couldn't develop it the way the white men
are going to do--there aren't enough of them."
Cindy gave herself over to dreams. Thousands of land-hungry people
poised on the border awaiting the signal that would send them across!
Wild riding! A mad scramble! Possibly danger. Certainly adventure. It
was an entrancing picture that she conjured up for herself.
"I'd love to go along!" she said impulsively.
"Me too!" Alec seconded. "But Dad says I must stay here and look after
mother and you twins until the claim is ready. I'll look after Gramps
and Granny too, Mr. Brent."
Pete said gently, "Thanks a lot, Alec." He turned to Mindy, "How about
you?"
"I'll wait," Mindy said quietly.
"You're right," said Pete. "Alec, you and Cindy, and I know it's Cindy
now because Mindy's been asking most of the questions, mustn't feel
badly. You're better off here. Oklahoma will be no place for youngsters,
or old people, until the claims are staked and everything is
straightened out."
"I'd still love to go!" Cindy said defiantly.
"Now forget it!" Pete laughed. "You can't go."
"Somebody else," Cindy was half in tears, "always has all the fun!"
"Oh, Cindy!" Pete was hurt because he had hurt her, and he wanted to
make up for it. "I was hoping you'd do a very important job for me here.
Can you ride?"
[Illustration]
"Can she ride!" Alec answered for his sister. "The horse hasn't been
born that can throw Cindy! Mindy's a good rider too."
"Good!" Pete said. "Now, of my two roan ponies, one is about as fast as
the other. I'm going to saddle both and leave one here for you. As soon
as your dad and I have gone, you take the one I leave, ride to the
telegraph station, and send this message to John Brent, care of Dasher
and Brent, 816 Fourth Street, New York City. Say: '_The Run is on. Pete
gone. All is well._' Will you do that?"
"If you want me to." Cindy suspected that Pete just wanted to give her
something to do, but she felt a little better anyhow.
"I'd go," the conscientious Alec stared into the darkness, "but I'm not
supposed to leave Mother. Why'd you ask Dad to ride with you, Mr.
Brent?"
"Because I'd hoped to be able to pick at least one of my neighbors, and
I picked the Simpsons."
"Children," their mother called softly. "Time for bed."
"See you tomorrow," Pete said as they rose to go. "And you mark my
words. April 22, 1889, the day of this Oklahoma Run, will be a great day
for the nation. Why, you three will see history made!"