“Some don’t, though,” replied the man.  “Most of ’em that are going West in a covered wagon seem to think corn in the field is public property.  A fellow camped right here one afternoon last fall.  He was out of feed, and took a grain sack on one arm and a big Winchester rifle on the other, and went over to old Brown’s cornfield.  He took the gun along not to shoot anybody, but to sort of intimidate Brown if he should catch him.  Suddenly he saw an old fellow coming towards him carrying a gun about a foot longer than his own.  The young fellow wilted right down on the ground and never moved.  He happened to go down on a big prickly cactus, but he never stirred, cactus or no cactus.  He thought Brown had caught him, and that he was done for.  The old man kept coming nearer and nearer.  He was almost to him.  The young fellow concluded to make a brave fight.  So he jumped up and yelled.  The old man dropped his gun and ran like a scared wolf.  Then the young fellow noticed that the other also had a sack in which he had been gathering corn.  He called him back, they saw that they were both thieves, shook hands, and went ahead and robbed old Brown together.”

The man got up to go.  “Well, good-night, boys,” he said.  “Rest as hard as you can tomorrow.  You’ll strike into the Sand Hills at about nine o’clock Monday morning.  Take three days’ feed, and every drop of water you can carry; and it you waste any of it washing your hands you’re bigger fools than I think you are.”

VII:  THROUGH THE SAND HILLS

“Come, stir out of that and get the camels ready for the desert!”

This was Jack’s cheery way of warning Ollie and me that it was time to get up on the morning of our start into the Sand Hills.

“Any simooms in sight?” asked Ollie, by way of reply to Jack’s remark.

“Well, I think Old Browny scents one; he has got his nose buried in the sand like a camel,” answered Jack.

It was only just coming daylight, but we were agreed that an early start was best.  It was another Monday morning, and we knew that it would take three good days’ driving to carry us through the sand country.  We had learned that, notwithstanding what our visitor of the first night had said, there were several places on the road where we could get water and feed for the horses.  We should have to carry some water along, however, and had got two large kegs from Valentine, and filled them and all of our jugs and pails the night before.  We also had a good stock of oats and corn, and a big bundle of hay, which we put in the cabin on the bed.

“Just as soon as Old Blacky finds that there is no water along the road he will insist on having about a barrel a day,” said Jack.  “And if he can’t get it he will balk, and kick the dash-board into kindling-wood.”

A little before sunrise we started.  It was agreed, owing to the increase in the load and the deep sand, that no one, not even Snoozer, should be allowed to ride in the wagon.  If Ollie got tired he was to ride the pony.  So we started off, walking beside the wagon, with the pony lust behind, as usual, dangling her stirrups, and the abused Snoozer, looking very much hurt at the insult put upon him, following behind her.