which now sprang between him and his friend. Battersleigh would have
lived till autumn in his tent, but Franklin saw that the need of a
house was immediate. He took counsel of Curly, the cowboy, who proved
guardian and benefactor. Curly forthwith produced a workman, a giant
Mexican, a half-witted _mozo_, who had followed the cow bands from the
far Southwest, and who had hung about Curly's own place as a sort of
menial, bound to do unquestioningly whatever Curly bade. This curious
being, a very colossus of strength, was found to be possessed of a
certain knowledge in building houses after the fashion of that
land--that is to say, of sods and earthen unbaked bricks--and since
under his master's direction he was not less serviceable than docile,
it was not long before the "claim" of Battersleigh was adorned with a
comfortable house fit for either winter or summer habitation. Franklin
meantime selected the body of land upon which he proposed to make
settlers' entry, this happily not far from his friend, and soon this
too had its house--small, crude, brown, meagre, but not uncomforting to
one who looked over the wide land and saw none better than his own.
Then, little by little, they got precious coal from the railroad, this
land having but scant fuel near at hand, and they built great stacks of
the _bois des vaches_, that fuel which Nature left upon the plains
until the railroads brought in coal and wood. Each man must, under the
law, live upon his own land, but in practice this was no hardship.
Each must of necessity cook for himself, sew for himself, rely upon
himself for all those little comforts which some men miss so keenly,
and which others so quickly learn to supply. To these two this was but
comfortable campaigning.

There remained ever before the minds of the settlers the desirability
of laying this land under tribute, of forcing it to yield a livelihood.
Franklin had no wish to depart from his original plans. He looked to