back alive and well, let the rest of the business care for itself. As
long as you are alive, and the redskins have not captured you, I am
satisfied."

Such was Sandy's welcome home.

With the following Monday morning came hard work,--harder work, so
Sandy thought, than miserably trying to find one's way in the darkness
of a strange region of country. For another log-house, this time on
the prairie claim, was to be begun at once. They might be called on at
any time to give up the cabin in which they were simply tenants at
will, and it was necessary that a house of some sort be put on the
claim that they had staked out and planted. The corn was up and doing
well. Sun and rain had contributed to hasten on the corn-field, and
the vines of the melons were vigorously pushing their way up and down
the hills of grain. Charlie wondered what they would do with so many
watermelons when they ripened; there would be hundreds of them; and
the mouths that were to eat them, although now watering for the
delicious fruit, were not numerous enough to make away with a
hundredth part of what would be ripe very soon. There was no market
nearer than the post, and there were many melon-patches between
Whittier's and the fort.

But the new log-house, taken hold of with energy, was soon built up to
the height where the roof was to be put on. At this juncture, Younkins
advised them to roof over the cabin slightly, make a corn-bin of it,
and wait for developments. For, he argued, if there should be any rush
of emigrants and settlers to that part of the country, so that their
claims were in danger of dispute, they would have ample warning, and
could make ready for an immediate occupation of the place. If nobody
came, then the corn-house, or bin, would be all they wanted of the
structure.

But Mr. Howell, who took the lead in all such matters, shook his head
doubtfully. He was not in favor of evading the land laws; he was more
afraid of the claim being jumped. If they were to come home from a
hunting trip, some time, and find their log-cabin occupied by a
"claim-jumper," or "squatter," as these interlopers are called, and
their farm in the possession of strangers, wouldn't they feel cheap?
He thought so.

"Say, Uncle Aleck," said Oscar, "why not finish it off as a cabin to
live in, put in the corn when it ripens, and then we shall have the
concern as a dwelling, in case there is any danger of the claim being
jumped?"

"Great head, Oscar,"