up
right. It means more to these settlers on the boundary out here than to
anybody else. And you just see if that regiment isn't made up in a
hurry."

I was full of my theme. My two months beyond the soft, sheltered life of
home had taught me much; and then I was young and thought I knew much,
anyhow.

"What are you going to do, Phil?" O'mie asked.

"I? I'm going to stay by this thing for a while. The Baronets were
always military folks. I'm the last of the line, and I'm going to give
my fighting strength, what little I have, to buy these prairies for
homes and civilization. I'm going to see the Indian rule broken here, or
crawl into the lonely grave Bud talks about and pull the curly mesquite
over me for a coverlet. I go to Topeka to-morrow to answer Governor
Crawford's call for volunteers for a cavalry company to go out on a
winter campaign against the rascally redskins. They're going to get what
they need. If you mix up with Custer, you'll see."

"And when the campaign's over," queried O'mie, "will you stay in the
army?"

"No, O'mie, I'll find a place. The world is wide. But look here, boy.
You haven't told me how you got pried loose and kicked out yet. Bud's an
exception. The rest of us boys had a reason for leaving the best town on
earth."

"You're just right, begorra!" O'mie replied with warmth. "I was kicked
out av town by His Majesty, the prophet Amos, only you've got to spell
it with an 'f' instead av a 'ph.'"

"Now, O'mie, confess the whole sin at once, please."

O'mie looked up with that sunshiny face that never stayed clouded long,
and chuckled softly. "Judson's on the crest right now. Oh, let him ride.
He's doomed, so let him have his little strut. He comes to me a few days
backward into the gone on, and says, says he, important and commercial
like, 'O'mie, I shall not need you any more. I've got a person to take
your place.' 'All right,' I responds, respectful, 'just as you please.
When shall I lave off?' 'To-morrow mornin',' he answers, an' looks at
me as if to say, 'Nothin' left for you but the poor-house.' And indade,
a clerk under Judson don't make no such bank account as he made under
Irving Whately. I ain't ready to retire yet."

"And do you mean to say that because Amos Judson turned you off and cut
you out of his will, you had to come out to this forsaken land? I
thought better of the town," I declared.

"Oh, don't you mind! Cris Mead offered me a place in the bank. Dr.
Hemingway was