prairies in summer and late in autumn, until they had become hardened.
In winter his mother had made him moccasins out of deer skins; but he
was at last informed that he was going to have a pair of shoes, such as
he had seen some children from the eastern States wear. His joy at this
intelligence knew no bounds. He dreamed of those shoes at night, and
they formed the theme of his conversation by day. His sister, who was
the oldest of the children, had been the happy possessor of three pairs
of shoes, and she often discussed knowingly the good qualities of pedal
coverings and of their advantages in travelling through brambles or over
stones. Often as he contemplated his scratched, chapped and bruised
feet, the child had asked himself if it were possible that he should
ever be able to afford such a luxury as a real pair of shoes.

Money was scarce, luxuries scarcer. The frontier people lived hard,
worked hard, slept sound, and enjoyed excellent health.

Though little Fernando had never owned a real pair of shoes in his life,
so far as he could remember, he possessed a strong mind and body, and no
prince was his superior. He had, as yet, never been to school a day, but
from the great book of nature he had imbibed sublimity and loftiness of
thought, which only painters and poets feel.

Though he was shoeless, he was inspired with lofty ideas of freedom such
as many reared in cities never dream about. The father had to make a
long journey to some far-away place for the shoes. The day before
starting all the children were made to put their feet on the floor,
while the parents measured them with strings, and tied knots to indicate
the size of shoes to be purchased. At last the measures were obtained,
and the father put them in the pocket of his buckskin hunting jacket.
Then he harnessed the horses to the wagon and, with, his trusty rifle