ion of his mother's tidy
kitchen in far-off Illinois rose before his mind. Sandy looked very
solemn.

"But, as daddy says, it's no use worrying about things you can't
help," continued the cheerful Oscar; "so here goes, Sandy. You wash,
and I'll dry 'em." And the two boys went on with their disagreeable
work so heartily that they soon had it out of the way; Sandy remarking
as they finished it, that, for his part, he did not like the business
at all, but he did not think it fair that they two, who could not do
the heavy work, should grumble over that they could do. "The worst of
it is," he added, "we've got to look forward to months and months of
this sort of thing. Father and Uncle Charlie say that we cannot have
the rest of the family come out until we have a house to put them
in--a log-cabin, they mean, of course; and Uncle Charlie says that we
may not get them out until another spring. I don't believe he will be
willing for them to come out until he knows whether the Territory is
to be slave or free. Do you, Oscar?"

"No, indeed," said Oscar. "Between you and me, Sandy, I don't want to
go back to Illinois again, for anything; but I guess father will make
up his mind about staying only when we find out if there is to be a
free-State government or not. Dear me, why can't the Missourians keep
out of here and let us alone?"

"It's a free country," answered Sandy, sententiously. "That's what
Uncle Charlie is always saying. The Missourians have just as good a
right here as we have."

"But they have no right to be bringing in their slavery with 'em,"
replied the other. "That wouldn't be a free country, would it, with
one man owning another man? Not much."

"That's beyond me, Oscar. I suppose it's a free country only for the
white man to come to. But I haven't any politics in me. Hullo! there
comes the rest of us driving a yoke of oxen. Well, on my word, they
have been quick about it. Uncle Charlie is a master hand at hurrying
things, I will say," added Sandy, admiringly. "He's done all the
trading, I'll be bound!"

"Fifty-five dollars," replied Bryant, to the boys' eager inquiry as to
the price paid for the yoke of oxen. "Fifty-five dollars, and not so
very dear, after all, considering that there are more people who want
to buy than there are who want to sell."

"And now we are about ready to start; only a few more provisions to
lay in. Suppose we get away by to-morrow morning?"

"Oh, that's out of the question, U