epic in miniature.
Charles also seemed to feel the essential poetry of the expedition,
although he said little except to remark, "I wish Burton were here."

It was one o'clock before we reached the cabin and two before we
finished luncheon. The afternoon was spent in wandering over the near-by
obtainable claims and at sundown we all returned to the shed to camp.

As dusk fell, and while the geese flew low gabbling confidentially, and
the ducks whistled by overhead in swift unerring flight, Charles and I
lay down on the hay beside the horses, feeling ourselves to be, in some
way, partners with God in this new world. I went to sleep hearing the
horses munching their grain in the neighboring stalls, entirely
contented with my day and confident of the morrow. All questions were
answered, all doubts stilled.

We arose with the sun and having eaten our rude breakfast set forth,
some six miles to the west, to mark the location of our claims with the
"straddle-bugs."

The straddle-bug, I should explain, was composed of three boards set
together in tripod form and was used as a monument, a sign of occupancy.
Its presence defended a claim against the next comer. Lumber being very
scarce at the moment, the building of a shanty was impossible, and so
for several weeks these signs took the place of "improvements" and were
fully respected. No one could honorably jump these claims within thirty
days and no one did.

At last, when far beyond the last claimant, we turned and looked back
upon a score of these glittering guidons of progress, banners of the
army of settlement, I realized that I was a vedette in the van of
civilization, and when I turned to the west where nothing was to be seen
save the mysterious plain and a long low line of still more mysterious
hills, I thrilled with joy at all I had won.

It seemed a true invasion, this taking possession of the virgin sod, but
as I considered, there was a haunting sadness in it, for these shining
pine pennons represented the inexorable plow. They prophesied the death
of all wild creatures and assured the devastation of the beautiful, the
destruction of all the signs and seasons of the sod.

Apparently none of my companions shared this feeling, for they all
leaped from the wagon and planted their stakes, each upon his chosen
quarter-section with whoops of joy, cries which sounded faint and far,
like the futile voices of insects, diminished to shrillness by the
echoless abysses of