to plan what to do first, don't I, and then
look around for a way to do it." That was the formula followed day after
day by the settlers.

"It's too bad you didn't register for a claim in the Drawing," she said
thoughtfully. "After all, there is no reason why you shouldn't have a
claim too."

"I could still get a homestead on the Brule," I declared, "and I can run
the newspaper on the homestead."

The more we discussed the plan the more Ida Mary liked the idea of
moving to the Strip where so many new people would be coming. We would
work together, we planned, and the influence of the newspaper would
radiate all over the reservation. But, it occurred to us, coming
abruptly down to earth, with no roads or telephones or mail service, how
were the settlers to receive the radiation?

This was a stickler, but having gone so far with our plans we were
reluctant to abandon them. Where there was a newspaper there should be a
post office. Then we would start a post office! Through it the land
notices would be received and the newspaper mailed to the subscribers.
The settlers could get the paper and their mail at the same place. We
decided that Ida Mary would run it. Somehow it did not occur to us that
the government has something to say about post offices and who shall run
them. Or that the government might not want to put a post office on my
homestead just to be obliging.

But once a person has learned to master difficulties as they come up, he
begins to feel he can handle anything; so Ida took her final proof
receipt to a loan office in Presho.

"How much can I borrow on this?" she asked, handing it to the agent.

"Oh, about eight hundred dollars."

"That isn't enough. Most homesteaders are getting a thousand-dollar loan
when they prove up."

"Yes, but your land's a mile long and only a quarter wide--"

Ida Mary was not easily bluffed. She reached for the receipt. "I'll try
Sedgwick at the bank."

"We'll make it nine hundred," the agent said, "but not a cent more. I
know that quarter section; it's pretty rough."

Homesteading was no longer a precarious venture. A homesteader could
borrow $1000 on almost any quarter-section in the West--more on good
land, well located. It was a criminal offense to sell or mortgage
government land, but who could wait six months or a year for the
government to issue a patent (deed) to the land? Many of the settlers
must borrow money to make proof. So the homestead loan business beca