left but us in this country till you cattlemen come monopolizing
Heaven and earth. Knowing we got just as much right to this cove
as Uncle Sam himself, we expect to stay here at anchor till Lahoma
steams out into the big world with sails spread. She expects to tug
us along behind her--but I don't know, I'm afraid we'd draw heavy.
Until that time comes, however, we 'lows to lay to, in this harbor.
We feels sheltered. Nothing ain't more sheltering than knowing you
have a moral right and a dependable gun."

"So that's about all," Lahoma went on. "These past four years,
we've just been to ourselves, with a long journey once a year to
the settlements; and all the time I had those sweet thoughts to
dream over, about the little family that used to live in the west
mountain. And I've tried to do like Mrs. Featherby used to do, and
be like she was, and if I can make as fine a woman I needn't ask any
more. She'd been to Europe, too, and she'd taught school in New
England. Bill Atkins is higher up than Brick--Bill used to know Kit
Carson and all those famous pioneers, and he's been most everywhere--
except in settled places. When a boy he saw Sam Houston and ate
with him, and he has heard David Crockett with his own ears--has
heard him say 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead,' that's how far
BILL has been. But it sort of hurt Brick's neck, and even Bill's,
to look up high enough to see where Mrs. Featherby had risen. She
was like you--right out of the big world. She came out here because
the family was awful poor. Is that why you left the big world?"

Wilfred shook his head. "I'm poor enough," he said, "but it wasn't
that. It was a girl."

Brick Willock explained, "He's got a sweetheart; he's been carrying