hunger to work
land of their own, a fervent aspiration to establish a solid basis of
self-sustentation upon which their children might build. From the day a
letter had come from Peter Mall, an ex-comrade in Wade's old regiment,
saying the quarter-section next his own could be bought by paying
annually a dollar and twenty-five cents an acre for seven years, their
hopes had risen into determination that had become unshakable. Before
the eyes of Jacob and Sarah Wade there had hovered, like a promise, the
picture of the snug farm that could be evolved from this virgin soil.
Strengthened by this vision and stimulated by the fact of Wade's
increasing weakness, they had sold their few possessions, except the
simplest necessities for camping, had made a canvas cover for their
wagon, stocked up with smoked meat, corn meal and coffee, tied old
Brindle behind, fastened a coop of chickens against the wagon-box and,
without faltering, had made the long pilgrimage. Their indomitable
courage and faith, Martin's physical strength and the pulling power of
their two ring-boned horses--this was their capital.

It seemed pitifully meager to Wade at that despondent moment, exhausted
as he was by the long, hard journey and the sultry heat. Never had he
been so taunted by a sense of failure, so torn by the haunting knowledge
that he must soon leave his family. To die--that was nothing; but the
fears of what his death might mean to this group, gripped his heart and
shook his soul.

If only Martin were more tender! There was something so ruthless in the
boy, so overbearing and heartless. Not that he was ever deliberately
cruel, but there was an insensibility to the feelings of others, a
capacity placidly to ignore them, that made Wade tremble for the future.
Martin would work, and work hard; he was no shirk, but would he ever
feel any responsibility toward his younger brother and sister? Would
he be loyal to his mother? Wade wondered if his wife ever felt as he
did--almost afraid of this son of theirs. He had a way of making his
father seem foolishly inexperienced and ineffectual.

"I reckon," Wade analysed laboriously, "it's because I'm gettin' less
able all the time and he's growing so fast--him limber an' quick, and me
all thumbs. There ain't nothing like just plain muscle and size to make
a fellow feel as if he know'd it all."

Martin had never seemed more competent than this evening as, supper
over, he harnessed the horses and helped