ent with these boys.

I went up to the fence and follered them with my eyes till they turned
the corner by Harris' barn and was gone.

CHAPTER XXIX

The next morning I was on my pony and up to Mitch's house at seven, and
whistled and whistled. By and by one of the girls came out and said
Mitch had staid all night at Charley King's and wasn't home yet. So I
went over there; but he and Charley was up and gone already. Mrs. King
came to the door, came out and stood by the pony and petted him and said
I had pretty eyes, same as before. Then she said Charley and Mitch had
gone somewhere. She didn't know where. So I rode off and rode around a
bit and then I started for the farm, thinkin' that Mitch had treated me
mean--and why would he for Rosencrantz or Guildenstern? whichever
Charley King was. I was sure Mitch would turn up and the next day
grandpa was goin' to town early to be home by three o'clock, and he said
he'd bring Mitch out if he could find him.

My uncle now was in a mood to go camping to Blue Lake. So we got the
tent out and began to mend it where it needed it, and fix the ropes. We
took the guns and cleaned 'em, and I helped my uncle load a lot of
shells. We set aside some pie plates and cups and did a lot of tinkerin'
around. Grandma didn't want us to go. She was afraid we'd get drowned or
shoot ourselves, or that a storm would come up and we'd get struck by
lightning.

In the afternoon old Washington Engle came and he and grandpa sat under
the maple trees and talked old times, even about Indians, for they had
been in the Black Hawk War together, and they had seen the country grow
from buffalo grass to blue grass and clover. I sat there listenin'; and
pretty soon a buggy pulled up and somebody called in a loud voice and
laughed. It was John Armstrong and Aunt Caroline. They had drove over to
visit; and John had brought his fiddle to play some of the old things
for grandma--some of the things he had played years before when Aunt
Mary was sick and grandma was takin' care of her. Grandpa liked gospel
tunes, like "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," but grandma liked "Rocky Road to
Jordan" and "The Speckled Hen"; and John could play these and couldn't
play religious tunes worth a cent. And John told stories as before; and
he told about a man at Oakford who never had any money and always wanted
drinks. So he took a jug and filled it half full of water and went to
Porky Jim Thomas' saloon and asked for a half a g