hing the blood and in washing and
binding up the wounds. No bones were injured, and with youth and a
buoyant constitution, there was every hope of recovery.

However, some disposition must be made of the wounded man. No one could
recall a house or settlement nearer than the Republican River, unless
down the Beaver, which was uncertain, when the visitor came to the
rescue. He was positive that some two years before, an old soldier had
taken a homestead five or six miles above the trail crossing on the
Beaver. He was insistent, and the foreman yielded so far as to order the
herd grazed forward to the Beaver, which was some ten miles distant in
their front. All the blankets in the outfit were accordingly brought
into use, in making a comfortable bed in the wagon, and the caravan
started, carrying the wounded man with it. Taking the stranger with him,
the foreman bore away in the direction of the supposed homestead, having
previously sent two men on an opposite angle, in search of any
settlement down the creek.

The visitor's knowledge of the surrounding country proved to be correct.
About six miles above the trail crossing, the Beaver, fringed with
willows, meandered through a narrow valley, in which the homestead was
located. The presence of the willows was an indication of old beaver
dams, which the settler had improved until the water stood in long,
placid pools. In response to their hail, two boys, about fourteen and
sixteen years of age, emerged from the dug-out and greeted the horsemen.
On inquiry, it proved that their father had died during the previous
winter, at a settlement on the Solomon River, and the boys were then
confronted with the necessity of leaving the claim to avoid suffering
want. It was also learned that their mother had died before their father
had taken the homestead, and therefore they were left orphans to fight
their own battle.

The boys gave their names as Joel and Dell Wells. Both were bright-eyed
and alert, freckled from the sun, ragged and healthy. Joel was the
oldest, broad-shouldered for his years, distant by nature, with a shock
of auburn hair, while Dell's was red; in height, the younger was the
equal of his brother, talkative, and frank in countenance. When made
acquainted with the errand of the trail boss, the older boy shook his
head, but Dell stepped forward: "Awful sorry," said he, with a sweep of
his hand, "but our garden failed, and there won't be a dozen
roasting-ears in that