nd
throwing down the planks before the animals, encouraged them to help
themselves.

"What are their names? Jim and Pete? Come on, my poor beasts; and,
once clear, you shall have a fine rest and feed."

"Shucks! There! Go on! Giddap! Gee! Haw!"

There followed a time of suspense, but at last the oxen gained a
little advance, when Kitty promptly moved the planks forward, and in
due time the wagon rolled out upon a firmer spot.

"Well, Kitty girl, you may not have sense, but you've got what's
better--that's gumption. And that's Chicago, is it?"

"Yes. I hope you like it."

"I've got to, whether or no. I'm in awful trouble, Kitty Briscoe, an'
it's all your fault."

"What can you mean?"

"Abel--Abel----"

"Yes--yes! What is it?"

"Ever sence you run away he's been pinin' to run after you. Said the
house wasn't home no more. 'Twasn't; though I wouldn't let on to him.
We've kept gettin' comfortabler off, an' I jawed him from mornin' to
night to make him contented. But he wouldn't listen. Got so he
wouldn't work home if he could help it, but lounged round the
neighbors'. Got hankerin' to go somewheres, an' keep tavern, like his
father afore him. Now, we've got burnt out----"

"Burned out! Oh, Mercy, that _is_ trouble, indeed! Tell me--No, wait.
Let us go and get something to eat first; and what were you intending
to do with that load of stuff?"

"Ship it East, if I can. I've heard there was consid'able that
business bein' done. Or sell it to the Fort folks."

"I think they'll be glad of it; they are always needing everything.
I'll go with you there, and your team can be left there, too, till
Abel comes."

"Abel! You don't think I'd leave him to manage _business_, do you?"

"I thought you said he was now staying behind to sell out--to
'manage.'"

"He's stayin' to try. There's a big difference 'twixt tryin' an'
doin'. He can't sell, not easy. And some day, when this whim of his
is over, we'll go back an' settle again, or move farther on. It's
gettin' ruther crowded where we be for comfort, these days."

"Crowded? Are there many new neighbors?"

"Lots. Some of 'em ain't more 'n a mile away, an' I call that too
close for convenience. Don't like to have folks pokin' their noses
into my very door-yard, so to speak."

"How will you endure it here, where, according to your ideas, the
houses are so very close?"

"I don't expect to like it. But, pshaw! They be thick, ain't they? I
declare it makes me think o