"Sit down and eat your breakfast, dear," said Cindy's mother.
Cindy ate her bacon and biscuits, but though ordinarily she was hungry
as a starving wolf, this morning she had no appetite. Alec, usually the
friendliest of people, seemed cold and withdrawn, almost a stranger. The
gentle Mindy stared into the fire. Her face drawn, Mrs. Simpson kept her
own thoughts. Jed Simpson, who had been staring into Oklahoma, turned to
put his family at ease.
"Come now!" he said heartily. "This isn't a funeral! Today's the day the
Simpsons get their own farm!"
"Why, of course," said Mrs. Simpson. "We must look at the good side."
But, though Jed and Ann Simpson could almost always reassure their
family and each other, this time both sounded very uncertain. Try as
they would, neither could be relaxed and comfortable. Because they
couldn't, they could not make their children feel that way either.
"I'll clean up," Mrs. Simpson said.
She began to work furiously, washing each plate until it shone and then
polishing it until it gleamed. She was trying to find in hard work
forgetfulness of the uncertainty that lay ahead, and to some small
extent she succeeded. For the third time in ten minutes, Jed Simpson
looked at his watch.
"What time is it?" Alec asked.
"Twenty past nine," his father said.
He went off to look at Sunshine, and even the horse seemed tense and
taut, as though she also felt the vast importance of this day. She had
eaten her oats, but instead of paying any attention to her hay she
trampled it as she shuffled about. Her head was high and constantly
turning. She looked all about the camp and now and again turned to stare
at Oklahoma, as though somehow realizing what was over there and what it
meant.
Across the border, a blue-uniformed soldier rode a brown horse on a
measured beat, going to one end of his assigned beat and then turning to
come back. Such soldiers were stationed at intervals, and within hearing
distance of each other, along the entire border. Exactly at high noon
some of them would blow bugles and some would shoot their revolvers or
rifles into the air. This would signal the opening of the border, and
the Run would be on.
Pete Brent came over with two white flags fastened to four-foot long
slender sticks that were pointed at one end. In the center of each flag
Granny had crocheted a gold star. Pete gave one of the flags to Jed
Simpson.
[Illustration: _Pete gave one of the flags to Jed Simpson_]
"Here you are. When we reach our claims, just ram it into the ground any
place at all, and you've staked."
"Oh." Glad for something to do, Mr. Simpson held the flag high and waved
it. He looked at it closely, as though it were some complicated thing
that needed close attention and not just a simple banner. "Those are
mighty fine flags, Pete."
"They're high enough, and nobody can miss a white flag," Pete said.
"People will know our claims are staked."
"What do you do then?" asked Mindy.
"As I've told you, Mindy," Pete said, "the homesteads have already been
surveyed and the corners marked. Some are marked by blazes on trees, but
the ones we want have piles of rocks, and I know exactly where they are.
After we've staked, we'll build the corners a little higher so nobody
can miss them either."
They continued to talk, and even though they had already discussed
everything they were talking about now, it comforted them to discuss it
again. Ann Simpson raised her head, stole a long look at her husband,
and turned away again. Her face was haggard and drawn.
"I'll help you, Mother," Cindy offered.
"I will too," Mindy said.
"No, thank you, children, I'll do it," Mrs. Simpson replied.
She had baked biscuits two days before, not because there was no time to
bake fresh ones today but because Jed and Pete would carry these, and
stale bread would not crush so easily. She put the biscuits carefully
into a sack, tied the sack in the center, and put a slab of bacon and
some beans in the other side.
Stale biscuits, bacon, and beans were all the food the two men would
have until they sent for Pete's wagon. But the less weight Sunshine had
to carry, the faster and farther she'd be able to run. With the biscuits
on one side, and the bacon and beans on the other, the sack could be
carried across Sunshine's saddle bow.
"Come over here, children."
It was a calm voice in a great storm, peace amid turmoil. Gramps and
Granny Brent, practically the only human beings present who were not
under strain and tension, were sitting serenely beside the Brent wagon.
Cindy, Mindy, and Alec went gladly to them.
"Be of good heart, children," Granny said calmly. "There is nothing to
fear."
"Are you sure?" Alec asked worriedly.
"It is a great thing," Gramps was calm as Granny, "a wonderful and
glorious sight. I am glad I have lived to see it. As long as human
beings strive for that which is better, the human race can never be
lost."
"But there's danger!" Mindy whispered.
"Aye," Granny remained unruffled, "and people were made to cope with
danger. It is only when they shrink from that which they should face,
that their souls shrink too."
"I remember when we went to Kansas," Gramps began.
He went on to speak of bitter storms, endless grasslands, crop failures,
hostile Indians, unfriendly white men. Then he balanced his tale with
stories of abundant crops, sunshine, plenty for all, dancing, and
happiness. Sitting at the feet of these two, who had lived almost as
long as people can live and seen almost as much as people can see, the
children forgot their own fears and worries, and they almost forgot the
passage of time.
"It's ten minutes past eleven!" somebody yelled.
Trying his best to look at ease, but making a poor job of it, Pete came
to the wagon. He smiled at his parents and the youngsters.
"Guess I'll saddle the ponies," he said.
"Are you taking two, Pete?" Gramps asked.
"No. Just one. Cindy's riding the other roan to the telegraph office to
let John know the Run is on."
"John's our other son," Granny said softly. "He wasn't born for the
West, but he does very well in New York." She followed Pete with her
eyes. "Pete is young, and he feels as the young do. That is good."
Pete came back with his two saddled ponies. "Which one do you want,
Cindy?" he asked.
"You take the best one," Cindy said anxiously.
"There's no choice between 'em. Here," he handed the reins of one pony
to Cindy, "you take Sparkle."
Granny came with a sack much like the one Ann Simpson had prepared for
her husband, and Pete tied it to his saddle bow. He strapped the flag
to one side, so that his legs would go over it. Then he embraced his
parents.
"I'll send for you," he promised.
"We know," Granny said calmly.
"We'll be waiting," said Gramps.
Over at the Simpson wagon, Jed had saddled and packed Sunshine too. Pete
tried hard not to make his smile a nervous one.
"Guess we might as well start from over there," he suggested.
"We'll go with you," Granny said. "Ann may want a woman around."
But if Ann Simpson was afraid, she gave no sign of it now. Her husband
was going across the border into no one knew what danger, but he was
going with a strong and steadfast heart. Tears might come later, but a
smile would urge him on.
Cindy tied Sparkle to a wagon wheel and looked up and down the line of
camps and wagons. There seemed to be twice as many people as there had
been before, as though they had sprung from the ground. Everyone with a
horse had it saddled, those with wagons had them ready, and there were
still a great many who must run on foot. Cindy giggled. There was one
man with a high-wheeled bicycle which he evidently intended to ride into
Oklahoma.
A desperate-looking man approached them and indicated Pete's two
remaining ponies. "Those yours?" he asked hoarsely.
"That's right," Pete said.
"I'll give you fifty dollars to let me ride one today," the man said.
"No," said Pete. "I can't take the chance. Ponies will be hard to get
for a long while."