o Santa Claus here. I'm goin' away."

She clung to the wagon seat and cried loudly when her father took her
down.

"Ain't that enough to break a man's heart?" he said with a sorrowful
look.

Then Samson turned to Brimstead and asked:

"Look here, Henry Brimstead, are you a drinking man? Honor bright now."

"Never drink a thing but water and tea."

"Do you know of anybody who'll give ye anything for what you own here?"

"There's a man in the next town who offered me three hundred and fifty
dollars for my interest."

"How far is it?"

"Three miles."

"Come along with us and get the money if you can. I'll help ye fit up and
go where ye can earn a living."

"I'd like to, but my horse is lame and I can't leave the children."

"Put 'em right in this wagon and come on. If there's a livery in the
place, I'll send ye home."

So the children rode in the wagon and Samson and Brimstead walked, while
Sarah drove the team to the next village. There the good woman bought new
clothes for the whole Brimstead family and Brimstead sold his interest in
the sand plains and bought a good pair of horses, with harness and some
cloth for a wagon cover, and had fifty dollars in his pocket and a new
look in his face. He put his children on the backs of the horses and led
them to his old home, with a sack of provisions on his shoulder. He was
to take the track of the Traylors next day and begin his journey to the
shores of the Sangamon.

Samson had asked about him in the village and learned that he was an
honest man who had suffered bad luck. A neighbor's wife had taken his
children for two years, but bad health had compelled her to give them up.

"God does the most of it," Sarah quoted from the young girl, as they rode
on. "I guess He's saved 'em from the poorhouse to-day. I hope they'll
ketch up with us. I'd like to look after those children a little. They
need a mother so."

"They'll ketch up all right," said Samson. "We're loaded heavier than
they'll be and goin' purty slow. They'll be leavin' No Santa Claus Land
to-morrow mornin'. Seems so God spoke to me when that girl said there
wa'n't no Santa Claus there."

"No Santa Claus Land is a good name for it," said Sarah.

They got into a bad swale that afternoon and Samson had to cut some
corduroy to make a footing for team and wagon and do much prying with the
end of a heavy pole under the front axle. By and by the horses pulled
them out.

"When ol' Colonel bends his nec