ottonwoods, worn and leaning,
offered the only shadow in a land flooded with vehement, devouring
light. The long journey was at an end.

Daniel raised a peculiar halloo, which brought a horseman hurrying out
to meet him. The brother had not forgotten their boyish signal. He rode
up swiftly and slid from his horse without speaking.

Jake resembled his brother in appearance, but his face was sterner and
his eyes keener. He had been made a bold, determined man by the pressure
of harsher circumstances. He shook his brother by the hand in
self-contained fashion.

"Wal, Dan'l, I'm right glad you got h'yer safe. I reckon this is Miss
Jinnie--she's a right hearty girl, ain't she? Mrs. Pratt, I'm heartily
glad to see ye. This yer little man must be the tit-man. What's your
name, sonny?"

"Dan. H. Pratt," piped the boy.

"Ah--hah! Wal, sir, I reckon you'll make a right smart of a cowboy yet.
What's this?" he said, turning to Mose. "This ain't no son-in-law, I
reckon!"

At this question all laughed, Jennie most immoderately of all.

"Not yit, Uncle Jake."

Mose turned red, being much more embarrassed than Jennie. He was indeed
enraged, for it hurt his pride to be counted a suitor of this ungainly
and ignorant girl. Right there he resolved to flee at the first
opportunity. Distressful days were at hand.

"You've been a long time gettin' here, Dan."

"Wal, we've had some bad luck. Mam was sick for a spell, and then we had
to lay by an' airn a little money once in a while. I'm glad I'm
here--'peared like we'd wear the hoofs off'n our stawk purty soon." Jake
sobered down first. "Wal, now I reckon you best unhook right h'yer for a
day or two till we get a minute to look around and see where we're at."
So, clucking to the tired horses the train entered upon its last half
mile of a long journey.

Jake's wife, a somber and very reticent woman, with a slender figure and
a girlish head, met them at the door of the cabin. Her features were
unusually small for a woman of her height, and, as she shook hands
silently, Mose looked into her sad dark eyes and liked her very much.
She had no children; the two in which she had once taken a mother's joy
slept in two little mounds on the hill just above the house. She seemed
glad of the coming of her sister-in-law, though she did not stop to say
so, but returned to the house to hurry supper forward.

After the meal was eaten the brothers lit their pipes and sauntered out
to the stables