s yet, the land
on which they had settled had no name except that of the river by
which it lay. The boys thought it would give some sort of distinction
to their home if they gave it a title. "Liberty Hall," they thought
would be a good name to put on the roof of their log-cabin. Something
out of Cooper's novels, Oscar proposed, would be the best for the
locality.

"'Hog-and-hominy,' how would that suit?" asked Sandy, with a laugh.
"Unless we get some buffalo or antelope meat pretty soon, it will be
hog and hominy to the end of the chapter."

"Why not call it the John G. Whittier cabin?" said Uncle Aleck,
looking up from his work of shaping an ox-yoke.

"The very thing, daddy!" shouted Sandy, clapping his hands. "Only
don't you think that's a very long name to say in a hurry? Whittier
would be shorter, you know. But, then," he added, doubtfully, "it
isn't everybody that would know which Whittier was meant by that,
would they?"

"Sandy seems to think that the entire population of Kansas will be
coming here, some day, to read that name, if we ever have it. We have
been here two months now, and no living soul but ourselves and
Younkins has ever been in these diggings; not one. Oh, I say, let's
put up just nothing but 'Whittier' over the door there. We'll know
what that means, and if anybody comes in the course of time, I'll
warrant he'll soon find out which Whittier it means." This was Oscar's
view of the case.

"Good for you, Oscar!" said his uncle. "Whittier let it be."

Before sundown, that day, a straight-grained shake of pine, free from
knot or blemish, had been well smoothed down with the draw-shave, and
on its fair surface, writ large, was the beloved name of the New
England poet, thus: WHITTIER.

This was fastened securely over the entrance of the new log-cabin, and
the Boy Settlers, satisfied with their work, stood off at a little
distance and gave it three cheers. The new home was named.

CHAPTER XIII.

LOST!

"We must have some board-nails and some lead," remarked Uncle Aleck,
one fine morning, as the party were putting the finishing touches to
the Whittier cabin. "Who will go down to the post and get them?"

"I", "I", "I", shouted all three of the boys at once.

"Oh, you will all go, will you?" said he, with a smile. "Well, you
can't all go, for we can borrow only one horse, and it's ten miles
down there and ten miles back; and you will none of you care to walk,
I am very sure."

The b