is over. And when that is settled commerce must do the real building-up
of the country. I want to be a part of that thing and grow with it. Why
do you go with me?"

My uncle looked directly at Jondo, although he asked the question
carelessly.

"To help you cross the plains. You know the redskins get worse every
trip," Jondo answered, lightly.

I stared at both of them until Jondo said, laughingly:

"You little owl, what are you thinking about?"

"I think you are telling each other stories," I replied, frankly.

For somehow their faces made me think of Beverly's face out on the
parade-ground that morning, when he had lifted it and looked at Mat
Nivers; and their voices, deep bass as they were, sounded like Beverly's
voice whispering between his sobs, before he went to sleep.

Both men smiled and said nothing. But when I went to my bed again Jondo
tucked the covers about me and Uncle Esmond came and bade me good
night.

"I guess you have the makings of a plainsman," he said, with a smile, as
he patted me on the head.

"The beginnings, anyhow," Jondo added. "He can see pretty far already."