“Gail, it’s been a half a week since Uncle Esmond went down to our other store in Independence, and we are going to start on our trip just as soon as he gets back, unless he sends for me and Jondo.”

I knew that he was trying to tell me that they meant to go without me, for he hurried out with the last words.  No boy wants to talk to a disappointed boy, and I had to clinch my teeth hard to keep back the tears.

“I want to get well quicker, Mat.  I want to go to Santa Fe with Beverly,” I wailed, making a desperate effort to get out of bed.

“You cuddle right down there, Gail Clarenden, if you want to get well at all.  If you’re real careful you’ll be all right in a day or two.  Let’s wait for Uncle Esmond to come home before we start any worries.”

It was in her voice, girl or woman, that comforting note that could always soothe me.

“Mat, won’t you try to get them to let me go?” I pleaded.

She made no promises, but busied herself with getting my foot into its place again, singing softly to herself all the while.  Then she read me stories from our few story-books till I fell asleep.

It was twilight when I wakened.  Where I lay I could hear Esmond Clarenden and Aunty Boone talking in the kitchen, and I listened eagerly to all they said.

“But it’s no place for a woman,” my uncle was urging, gravely.

“I ain’t a woman, I’m a cook.  You want cooks if you eats.  Mat ain’t a woman, she’s a girl.  But she’s stronger ’n Beverly.  If you can’t leave him, how can you leave her?  An’ Gail never get well if he’s left here, Cla’n’den, now he’s got the goin’ fever.  Never!  An’ if you never got back—­”

“I don’t believe he would get well, either.”  Then Uncle Esmond spoke lower and I could not hear any more.

Pretty soon Mat and Beverly burst open the door and came dancing in together, the sweet air of the warm April evening coming in with them, and life grew rose-colored for me in a moment.

“We are all going to Santa Fe over the long trail.  Every last gun of us.  Aunty Boone, and Mat, and you, and me, and Jondo, and Uncle Esmond, rag-tag and bobtail.  Whoop-ee-diddle-dee!” Beverly threw up his cap, and, catching Mat by the arms, they whirled around the room together.

“Who says so, Bev?” I asked, eagerly.

“Them as knows and bosses everything in this world.  Jondo told me, and he’s just the boss’s shadow.  Now guess who,” Beverly replied.

“It’s all true, Gail,” Mat assured me.  “Esmond Clarenden is going to Santa Fe in spite of ‘war, pestilence, famine, and sword,’ as my History of the World says, and he is going to take son Beverly, and son Gail to watch son Beverly; and Miss Mat Nivers to watch both of them and shoo Indians away; and Aunt Daniel Boone to scare the Mexicans into the Gulf of California, if they act ugly, see!”

She capered about the room, and as she passed me she stooped and patted me on the forehead.  I didn’t want her to do that.  I had taken a long jump away from little-boy-dom a week ago, but I was supremely content now that all of us were to take the long trail together.