directly, anyhow," she added, wisely. "The only new thing is that Uncle
Esmond is going to Santa Fé right away. You know he has bought goods of
the Santa Fé traders since we couldn't remember. And now he's going down
there himself, and he's going to take you boys with him. That's what
Bev is trying to get out, or keep back."

"Whoopee-diddle-dee!" Beverly shouted, throwing himself backward and
kicking up his heels.

I jumped up and capered about in glee at the thought of such a journey.
But my heart-throb of childish delight was checked, mid-beat.

"Won't Mat go, too?" I asked, with a sudden pain at my throat. Mat
Nivers was a part of life to me.

The smile fell away from the girl's lips. Her big, sunshiny gray eyes
and her laughing good nature always made her beautiful to Beverly and
me.

"I don't want to go and leave Mat," I insisted.

"Oh, I do," Beverly declared, boastingly. "It would be real nice and
jolly without her. And what could a little girl do 'way out on the
prairies, and no mother to take care of her, while we were shooting
Indians?"

He sprang up and took aim at the fort with an imaginary bow and arrow.
But there was a hollow note in his voice as if it covered a sob.

"She can shoot Indians as good as you can, Beverly Clarenden, and,