Then came three camps, one behind the other. The first belonged to an old man with a sorry-looking mule and a small tent. A little to one side and about thirty feet away was a tent belonging to two young men who owned a smart buggy, or light wagon, drawn by two handsome horses. The young men seemed little interested in anything except having a good time. Directly behind them was another wagon occupied by a tired-looking man, an equally tired woman, and four lively children. Scrawled in black paint on the wagon's cover was:
FROZE OUT IN MINNYSOTA. FLOODED OUT IN ILLYNOIS. BURNT OUT IN NEBRASKY. GRASSHOPPERED OUT IN KANSAS. MAKE OUT IN OKLYHOMY.
For as far as the children could see in either direction were tents, wagons, bed rolls, and even a few caves dug into the earth. These camps were occupied by men, women, and children who, almost without exception, had two things in common. They were very poor people who had never been able to buy land of their own, and they had never given up the idea that to have some would be glorious. So these they shared: poverty and dreams. There were very few among them whose camps, rigs, teams, or dress indicated that they had any money to spare.
Directly across were a dozen tents wherein lived a detachment of the soldiers who were guarding the border. Formerly their job had been to look after the Indians, and to see that no Boomers were allowed to stay in Oklahoma. Now they were patrolling the border to see that nobody crossed before they should, and to evict any who did. Even as Cindy, Mindy, and Alec watched, eight of these soldiers in the command of a jovial-looking sergeant came in sight.
With them rode eight sullen-faced men. The sergeant called to the people who gathered to watch, "Make way there! These men crossed a little sooner than they should, and we caught them!"
The soldiers took their captives between the lines of watching people, most of whom were angry. Women glared at the prisoners. Men clenched their fists. Near Cindy, Mindy, and Alec, a middle-aged man started talking to a younger one.
"Sooner than they should, huh?" he growled. "Bet these 'Sooners' got most of the good claims already staked or are waitin' in there to stake 'em!"
"Sooners, huh?" the young man said. "Good name for 'em, pop. I'd sooner draw a bead on one of 'em than on a rattlesnake. Got no use for anyone who won't wait for the openin' gun an' take his chances with the rest."
The name spread among the assembled people, and there were more angry murmurings about the Sooners.
"Sergeant!" a man called. "Leave these Sooners with us! We'd like to talk with 'em."
"Now, now," the sergeant grinned. "I can't do that."
A little way from the crowd he stopped his prisoners, waved a piece of paper, and addressed the Sooners.
"Got your names here, boys, and I aim to spread 'em," he said. "Go back across if you think it's healthy. But I guess you know what people here think of Sooners."
The soldiers wheeled and rode back across the border. As soon as they were far enough away, the muttering people closed in. Putting spurs to their horses, the Sooners galloped away as fast as they could.
A couple of days later, Alec sat near the Simpsons' wagon, watching his father exercise Sunshine. Controlling the beautiful mare entirely by the way he swayed his body and with a very light touch on the reins, Jed Simpson put Sunshine into a canter. Then he drew her back to a trot, and Alec sighed wistfully.
Tomorrow was April 22, the day of the great Run, and it was impossible not to share the excitement that mounted all along the border. Alec tried hard to calm down. He was not going to make the ride into Oklahoma, and he knew it. His father had asked him to stay with the wagon and take care of his mother and sisters. Duty was plain, and there could be no shirking. All the Simpsons had to work together for the good of all.
He must not, Alec told himself, evenwishthat he could make the ride. But because he couldn't help wishing, he felt a little guilty. His father brought Sunshine back, staked her on the picket rope, and began to rub her down.
"She's in shape," he called to his son. "She'll make it."
Alec said, "I'm sure she will."
"Come a little closer, will you, Alec?"
Alec went nearer, and his father lowered his voice. "I want to talk to you confidentially, son. You'll take good care of your mother and the twins?"
"Yes, Dad."
Mr. Simpson grinned nervously, and Alec sensed that he too had given way to the general excitement. His father spoke again, "I know I can depend on you."
"Yes, you can."
"Pete and I are going as light as possible, with only a little food," Mr. Simpson said. "The important thing is to get the claims staked. Nor do I want your mother out there until there is a good house ready for her. I want it to seem like home when she comes. But we'll need one wagon and some tools as soon as possible after the land is ours. If we take Pete's, his father and mother can move into ours until we send for that too. Now, after this crowd gets out of here, your mother and the twins will be all right, and I won't be afraid to leave them alone. Think you can bring Pete's wagon up when I send for you?"
"Oh, yes. I can handle the team."
"Good. Of course I'll send someone to show you the way. Now—What in tarnation is that sister of yours up to?"
Hands clasped around and chin resting on her knees, Cindy was looking intently at a big and battle-scarred old cat that had strayed into the camp. With his tail curled around his paws, the cat stared back at the girl. Presently he rose, walked over to her, and began to rub himself against her legs. Cindy stroked him and continued to watch closely. Jed Simpson chuckled.
"What does she find so interesting about that old cat?" he asked.
Alec grinned. "I think she's looking at its eyes," he replied.
"Why look at a cat's eyes?" Mr. Simpson demanded.
"Remember what Granny Bevers said about good luck following us if we would beware a man with cat's eyes? Cindy thought she saw such a man in camp."
Jed Simpson shook his head. "That girl gets the blamedest ideas!"
Suddenly a big hound dog that had crept up behind a near-by wagon roared his challenge and rushed the cat. Without hesitation, the cat jumped on Cindy's shoulders and turned to face his enemy. The dog charged angrily in, bowling Cindy over in the process. The cat snarled. There was a short, sharp fight on top of the prostrate youngster until, leaving the cat in full possession of the field, the dog ran howling away.
Alec and his father, who had started running forward the instant the cat leaped, arrived to find Cindy picking herself up and brushing herself off. Her eyes were shining, and an excited smile trembled on her lips.
"Oh boy!" she exclaimed. "What a fight!"
"Are you hurt?" her father asked anxiously.
"Me?" Cindy looked astonished that anyone should ask such a question. "Oh, no!"
"Doggone!" Alec burst out. "If you fell in a rain barrel you'd come out with your pockets full of cookies!"
"Of course," Cindy said sweetly.
The cat resumed rubbing against her legs, and Cindy looked fondly at it. Sure that she was not hurt, and far too excited to stay in one place for very long, Jed Simpson walked over to discuss with Pete Brent plans that they had already discussed a dozen times. Alec smirked at his sister.
"There's something Iwillbelieve," he declared.
"What?" Cindy asked.
"The cat has cat's eyes."
Cindy made a face. "Funny boy! That man's eyes were just like the cat's!"
"You're sure?" Alec asked.
"Very sure," Cindy said firmly. "I wish I could find him again."
"Seems he's 'being ware' of us. Guess your magic must have scared him away. Let's take a walk," Alec suggested.
"Let's get Mindy to go with us," Cindy said eagerly.
"Mindy's sewing," Alec said, and added smugly, "a proper pastime for a girl."
"I can sew too, smartypants," Cindy declared.
"Then why don't you?"
Cindy laughed. "I'd rather do almost anything else. Come on. Let's walk."
They strolled among the camps and wagons, and it seemed that every day brought more people who were determined to claim the free land in Oklahoma. A creaking wagon drawn by six oxen and commanded by a bearded man carrying an ox goad came in and stopped. The man smoothed his beard with his fingers.
"How far to Oklahoma?" he called to a man who was soaping a saddle.
"Hundred yards," the man said without looking up.
The ox driver stared across the border. He said, as though he had reason to doubt it, "So that's Oklahoma?"
"Yup," the other man continued industriously to soap his saddle, "an' you better not cross afore noon tomorra. They're kickin' more Sooners out every day."
Cindy shivered. "It's so exciting!" she exclaimed.
"Sure is!" Alec glowed.
It seemed that everyone had been bitten by an invisible bug which continued to bite and would permit no rest. Hands clasped behind his back, the man who owned the race horse paced restlessly back and forth, almost as though someone had measured off a space and ordered him to walk in it forever. His cheeks were red and his eyes bright, almost feverish. He looked at the two children as they passed without even seeing them.
The family that hoped to "make out in Oklyhomy" were all busy, the man oiling harness, the woman and her oldest daughter piling boxes in the wagon, and the three smaller children getting in the way. The two lively young men were having a wrestling match. The old man was looking earnestly at his sorry-looking mule and saying over and over again, "Now, mule, we got to go. We got to go, mule."
"Where you got to go?" somebody called.
"Oklahoma," the old man said. "Now, mule, we got to go. We got to go, mule."
A reckless rider on a plunging horse rode through the camp. His horse, jumping suddenly sidewise, knocked over one of two water pails that were standing beside a tent. The owner of the pails, a fat man dressed only in red underwear, ran out of the tent and shook his fist.
"Come back and do that again!" he yelled.
"All right! I will!"
The reckless rider turned his horse, came back, knocked over the other water pail, then, laughing, rode off. The fat man raised his arms heavenwards and roared at the top of his voice. Then, shrugging, he picked up his pails and, still wearing only red underwear, went to get more water.
A bevy of youngsters were playing tag near by. "Join the game!" a freckle-faced boy about Alec's age called.
"Let's!" Cindy said eagerly.
"Play tag, when the border's opening tomorrow?" Alec questioned.
"Oh!" the freckle-face bristled. "So you're too good to play tag with us!"
He swaggered up to Alec, raised a threatening hand, and the battle was about to be joined when Cindy brought her shoe sharply down on the freckle-face's bare foot. He cried "Ooh!" and began to hop about on one foot. Seizing Alec's hand, Cindy ran like a deer.
She led him around a wagon, dodged around another, then ducked behind a tent. They stopped running and peered cautiously around the tent. Freckle-face and his friends were hunting determinedly for them. But they were hunting in the wrong direction.
"I could have licked him!" Alec glowered.
"But not him and all his friends," Cindy reminded her brother. "Besides, Mother doesn't want you fighting at all, and even Father would be angry if you fought on Sunday. We'd better get back to our own wagon, or we'll be late for church services."
For the first time, the hubbub quieted as people gathered to worship. The church was an open space among the camps and wagons, the pulpit a wagon box, and the preacher an unlettered farmer named John Taber. But his heart was sincere, and his beliefs were honest. Attempting no great oration, he spoke of brotherly love, of peace, and of helpful activities. He reminded all present that, regardless of how bitter or harsh their future struggles might seem, they would never be alone or deserted, for He who was above all would never forsake them. All along the 200-mile border, similar services were taking place.
For a while after religious services the people were calmer, but few could stay that way.
Jed Simpson started inspecting Sunshine's hoofs. Mindy and her mother resumed sewing. Mrs. Simpson's head was bent as though she wanted to hide the fear that lurked in her face. Cindy helped Pete Brent groom his ponies while Alec groomed the Simpsons' wagon mules. Only Granny and Gramps, sitting quietly side by side and finding in each other something much more interesting than others found in excited thoughts of free land, seemed calm and at ease.
All night long men shouted, now and again guns exploded, and usually somebody had his voice raised in song. Tomorrow was the day of glory. Tomorrow the border opened, and the few who might have slept could not because the rest were making so much noise.
Dawn was breaking when Cindy finally went to sleep. Dimly through the slumber that was enfolding her she heard an anguished "Has anybody seen a strayed mule?"
Somebody else yelled, "Here's your mule, Joe!"
There had never been, Cindy thought when she awakened and peered through the partly open wagon flaps, a more beautiful day. The air was so clear that it seemed possible to look almost to the other end of the world. The sky was cloudless, and though the bright sun held a promise of heat to come with afternoon, a gentle little breeze made the morning pleasant and cool.
Cindy was astonished to find her bed empty and a little afraid because she heard nothing. Had she slept right through the great Run? Was everybody already in Oklahoma? She dressed hurriedly and leaped out of the wagon to find her family waiting and everyone else still present.
But the mood of the whole border had changed.
Yesterday it had been noisy, boisterous, excited. But yesterday all had been at loose ends, and this morning the crowd was like a tightly wound spring. When it finally let go, nothing would be able to stop it.
Mrs. Simpson started cooking bacon for Cindy, but she tried hard not to look at anybody at all. Sensing the changed mood, Cindy attempted to rid herself of it and could not.
"Why didn't you wake me, Mother?" she asked.
"There was no need, dear," her mother said. "With all the shouting and screaming last night, you had little enough sleep anyway."
"That's right," Mindy agreed. "I awakened several times, and you hadn't yet gone to sleep."
"Did you sleep?" Cindy asked her twin.
"Well, not very much, but more than you did."
"I slept," Alec boasted. "The last thing I remember, somebody wanted to know about a strayed mule, and somebody else said, 'Here's your mule, Joe!'"
"Then you didn't sleep much either," Cindy said. "Dawn was breaking when that happened!"
Alec said, "Aw, I don't need sleep."
"Sit down and eat your breakfast, dear," said Cindy's mother.
Cindy ate her bacon and biscuits, but though ordinarily she was hungry as a starving wolf, this morning she had no appetite. Alec, usually the friendliest of people, seemed cold and withdrawn, almost a stranger. The gentle Mindy stared into the fire. Her face drawn, Mrs. Simpson kept her own thoughts. Jed Simpson, who had been staring into Oklahoma, turned to put his family at ease.
"Come now!" he said heartily. "This isn't a funeral! Today's the day the Simpsons get their own farm!"
"Why, of course," said Mrs. Simpson. "We must look at the good side."
But, though Jed and Ann Simpson could almost always reassure their family and each other, this time both sounded very uncertain. Try as they would, neither could be relaxed and comfortable. Because they couldn't, they could not make their children feel that way either.
"I'll clean up," Mrs. Simpson said.
She began to work furiously, washing each plate until it shone and then polishing it until it gleamed. She was trying to find in hard work forgetfulness of the uncertainty that lay ahead, and to some small extent she succeeded. For the third time in ten minutes, Jed Simpson looked at his watch.
"What time is it?" Alec asked.
"Twenty past nine," his father said.
He went off to look at Sunshine, and even the horse seemed tense and taut, as though she also felt the vast importance of this day. She had eaten her oats, but instead of paying any attention to her hay she trampled it as she shuffled about. Her head was high and constantly turning. She looked all about the camp and now and again turned to stare at Oklahoma, as though somehow realizing what was over there and what it meant.
Across the border, a blue-uniformed soldier rode a brown horse on a measured beat, going to one end of his assigned beat and then turning to come back. Such soldiers were stationed at intervals, and within hearing distance of each other, along the entire border. Exactly at high noon some of them would blow bugles and some would shoot their revolvers or rifles into the air. This would signal the opening of the border, and the Run would be on.
Pete Brent came over with two white flags fastened to four-foot long slender sticks that were pointed at one end. In the center of each flag Granny had crocheted a gold star. Pete gave one of the flags to Jed Simpson.
"Here you are. When we reach our claims, just ram it into the ground any place at all, and you've staked."
"Oh." Glad for something to do, Mr. Simpson held the flag high and waved it. He looked at it closely, as though it were some complicated thing that needed close attention and not just a simple banner. "Those are mighty fine flags, Pete."
"They're high enough, and nobody can miss a white flag," Pete said. "People will know our claims are staked."
"What do you do then?" asked Mindy.
"As I've told you, Mindy," Pete said, "the homesteads have already been surveyed and the corners marked. Some are marked by blazes on trees, but the ones we want have piles of rocks, and I know exactly where they are. After we've staked, we'll build the corners a little higher so nobody can miss them either."
They continued to talk, and even though they had already discussed everything they were talking about now, it comforted them to discuss it again. Ann Simpson raised her head, stole a long look at her husband, and turned away again. Her face was haggard and drawn.
"I'll help you, Mother," Cindy offered.
"I will too," Mindy said.
"No, thank you, children, I'll do it," Mrs. Simpson replied.
She had baked biscuits two days before, not because there was no time to bake fresh ones today but because Jed and Pete would carry these, and stale bread would not crush so easily. She put the biscuits carefully into a sack, tied the sack in the center, and put a slab of bacon and some beans in the other side.
Stale biscuits, bacon, and beans were all the food the two men would have until they sent for Pete's wagon. But the less weight Sunshine had to carry, the faster and farther she'd be able to run. With the biscuits on one side, and the bacon and beans on the other, the sack could be carried across Sunshine's saddle bow.
"Come over here, children."
It was a calm voice in a great storm, peace amid turmoil. Gramps and Granny Brent, practically the only human beings present who were not under strain and tension, were sitting serenely beside the Brent wagon. Cindy, Mindy, and Alec went gladly to them.
"Be of good heart, children," Granny said calmly. "There is nothing to fear."
"Are you sure?" Alec asked worriedly.
"It is a great thing," Gramps was calm as Granny, "a wonderful and glorious sight. I am glad I have lived to see it. As long as human beings strive for that which is better, the human race can never be lost."
"But there's danger!" Mindy whispered.
"Aye," Granny remained unruffled, "and people were made to cope with danger. It is only when they shrink from that which they should face, that their souls shrink too."
"I remember when we went to Kansas," Gramps began.
He went on to speak of bitter storms, endless grasslands, crop failures, hostile Indians, unfriendly white men. Then he balanced his tale with stories of abundant crops, sunshine, plenty for all, dancing, and happiness. Sitting at the feet of these two, who had lived almost as long as people can live and seen almost as much as people can see, the children forgot their own fears and worries, and they almost forgot the passage of time.
"It's ten minutes past eleven!" somebody yelled.
Trying his best to look at ease, but making a poor job of it, Pete came to the wagon. He smiled at his parents and the youngsters.
"Guess I'll saddle the ponies," he said.
"Are you taking two, Pete?" Gramps asked.
"No. Just one. Cindy's riding the other roan to the telegraph office to let John know the Run is on."
"John's our other son," Granny said softly. "He wasn't born for the West, but he does very well in New York." She followed Pete with her eyes. "Pete is young, and he feels as the young do. That is good."
Pete came back with his two saddled ponies. "Which one do you want, Cindy?" he asked.
"You take the best one," Cindy said anxiously.
"There's no choice between 'em. Here," he handed the reins of one pony to Cindy, "you take Sparkle."
Granny came with a sack much like the one Ann Simpson had prepared for her husband, and Pete tied it to his saddle bow. He strapped the flag to one side, so that his legs would go over it. Then he embraced his parents.
"I'll send for you," he promised.
"We know," Granny said calmly.
"We'll be waiting," said Gramps.
Over at the Simpson wagon, Jed had saddled and packed Sunshine too. Pete tried hard not to make his smile a nervous one.
"Guess we might as well start from over there," he suggested.
"We'll go with you," Granny said. "Ann may want a woman around."
But if Ann Simpson was afraid, she gave no sign of it now. Her husband was going across the border into no one knew what danger, but he was going with a strong and steadfast heart. Tears might come later, but a smile would urge him on.
Cindy tied Sparkle to a wagon wheel and looked up and down the line of camps and wagons. There seemed to be twice as many people as there had been before, as though they had sprung from the ground. Everyone with a horse had it saddled, those with wagons had them ready, and there were still a great many who must run on foot. Cindy giggled. There was one man with a high-wheeled bicycle which he evidently intended to ride into Oklahoma.
A desperate-looking man approached them and indicated Pete's two remaining ponies. "Those yours?" he asked hoarsely.
"That's right," Pete said.
"I'll give you fifty dollars to let me ride one today," the man said.
"No," said Pete. "I can't take the chance. Ponies will be hard to get for a long while."
The man turned appealingly to Jed Simpson. "Are those your mules?"
"Yes."
"I'll give you fifty dollars to let me ride one in the Run."
"I can't risk it," said Jed. "I'll need them to work my farm."
The man moaned softly and went on to offer the next person with a horse or mule fifty dollars to ride it in the Run.
"He'll get nothing," Pete said. "There isn't a saddle animal for sale or rent the length of the border. What time is it, Jed?"
"Five minutes to twelve. We'd better get ready."
Jed turned to kiss his wife, and he tried to be very calm. But his hands were trembling, and tears lurked in his eyes. He smiled at his children.
"Be good, and help your mother," he bade.
Then Pete and Jed swung into their saddles as a great hush descended on the border. All eyes were on the soldier who was to give the signal for this section. He had stopped riding back and forth and was waiting. His revolver was in his hand. As soon as the officer who was timing it ordered the soldier nearest him to do so, that soldier would give the signal. All the rest would pick it up and it would resound clear around the border.
But it was not the soldier who shot.
It was a man down the line. Cindy saw him very plainly, and he shot a full three minutes before high noon. But nothing could stop the assembled home seekers now. They surged forward, and almost instantly the Run formed a pattern. The lean, bearded man with the race horse shot ahead of all the rest.
"They're all Sooners now," Granny Brent said, chuckling. "Oklahoma, the Sooner State."
"Oh!" Ann Simpson gasped.
She had turned to look at the wagon, and now she was rooted in her tracks. Her face was white, her hands clasped to her cheeks. Forgotten in the excitement, Jed's gun hung on a peg.
Cindy leaped forward. She snatched the gun, jerked Sparkle's reins loose, mounted, and was away. Her mother's frantic "Cindy! Cindamine! Come back!" was drowned in the thunder of hoofs and the rattle of wagons.
It seemed to Mindy, who did not even move, that somewhere she had seen all of this before. Cindy, always so quick to think and act, would naturally be the one to take her father's desperately needed gun to him. Alec, running toward the picket line to get Pete Brent's sorrel pony, would of course try to find Cindy and bring her back.
Then Mindy realized why it all seemed familiar. It was because, in such a situation, her brother and sister couldn't possibly have done anything else. But try as she would, Mindy could not even imagine herself doing anything so spirited and daring.
Alec bridled the sorrel pony, leaped on him bareback, and wheeled him past the Simpson wagon. "I'll find her, Mother!" he shouted as he sped toward the border.
Alec was gone, and Mindy saw a great crowd of running men with, here and there, a rider dashing among them. Occasionally, like a white sail in the distance, she saw the white cover of a wagon.
Mindy swallowed hard, and never before in her life had she felt such awful fear. Her father had gone into no one knew what danger. Cindy had followed him, and Alec had followed Cindy. Therefore, Cindy and Alec were in danger too. At the same time, though her heart was torn for her father, brother, and sister, Mindy knew that she must not give way to fear.
"That child certainly acts fast," said Granny Brent.
Mrs. Simpson said, "Cindamine was always headstrong."
"Maybe, but I'd call this quick thinking," Granny said. "Well, John won't get his message now. I do hope he doesn't worry."
And before she could stop herself, Mindy heard herself saying, "I'll take the message to the telegraph station."
Mrs. Simpson arched surprised brows. Mindy looked only briefly at her mother. She knew how Mrs. Simpson felt, because she herself felt the same way. But if she looked too long at her mother's face, the tears that were in her heart might leap into her eyes. That must not be.
"Do you think you can do it, Miranda?" her mother asked.
"I'm sure I can," said Mindy, who had to be sure because she dared be no other way. There was something to be done. Since those who normally would have done it were no longer here, those who were had to take over. Neither Mrs. Simpson nor Gramps or Granny could ride. That left only Mindy.
"There isn't any saddle," said Gramps.
"I'll ride bareback," Mindy said.
Gramps said, "Pete's horses aren't very fast."
"It's only two miles," Mindy pointed out.
"You'll be careful?" asked Mrs. Simpson, and Mindy knew that her mother was making a mighty effort to remain calm.
"I'll be very careful," Mindy promised.
"If you're going to ride," Mrs. Simpson said, "you had better put on some of Alec's outgrown clothes. You'll find some in Cindamine's carpetbag."
"Shall I write the message and the address to which it's going?" asked Gramps.
"No," said Mindy, who remembered every word. "I'm to send it to Mr. John Brent, care of Dasher and Brent, 816 Fourth Street, New York City. I'm to say, 'The Run is on. Pete gone. All is well.'"
"That's right," Gramps said. "Here is some money to pay for the telegram."
Mindy took the money and went into the Simpson wagon. She found underwear, blue jeans, and a shirt exactly like those Cindy was wearing. Mindy removed her own clothes and put them on, shivering a bit as she did so. It seemed perfectly fitting and natural for Cindy to wear such garb, but other girls wore dresses. However, without a side saddle, one could not ride very well while wearing a dress, and she must ride.
When Mindy stepped out of the wagon, it seemed that she had suddenly become as big as a house and that everyone was watching her. She breathed a sigh of relief because her mother, Granny, and Gramps were not in sight. As fast as she could, Mindy skipped over to Pete Brent's picket line.
She was a little puzzled. Cindy, who seemed to think it was something unusual, had told her she was the only person ever to pet Pete's Thunder pony, and Mindy did not understand what she had meant. Gramps had said that Pete's remaining horses, the big work team and Thunder, were not very fast. But if Thunder wasn't fast, his looks and the way he used his feet belied everything Mindy knew about horses.
Taking a bridle from Pete's harness rack, Mindy went to the picket line. The big work horses pricked their ears up and snorted softly. Thunder danced happily forward to meet her. Mindy looped the bridle reins around his neck to hold him, and she slipped his halter off. She put the bridle on, and Thunder took the bit willingly. Mindy grasped a handful of his mane and vaulted to his back.
Thunder danced gallantly, ran in a little circle just to show he could do it, then responded perfectly to the reins. Mindy guided him down the dirt road leading to the telegraph station. She knew the road, it was the one on which her father had brought her to the wagon.
For the first mile she held Thunder to a walk, and she did not look to either side. She still felt big as a house, and it seemed to her that everyone on the border must be looking and laughing at this girl who wore a boy's clothing and sat a horse astride. Then she began to feel more at ease.
Of course, dresses were the only proper garments for girls. But it was astonishing how much more freedom of movement a boy's clothing allowed, and nobody seemed to be laughing. Mindy began to steal glances at what lay about her.
Again, and in an unbelievably short time, the border had changed. There weren't nearly as many people as there had been, for most of the men had joined the Run into Oklahoma. Many wagons had gone, too. Most of the people left behind were women, children, and older people who were waiting for their men to stake claims and then send for them. They were all too deeply occupied with their own thoughts and troubles to give Mindy more than a passing glance.
She felt more and more at ease. Mindy touched Thunder with her heels.
The pony shot ahead, scarcely seeming to touch the earth as he did so. Mindy forgot that she was wearing a boy's clothing. For a while, so fast and wonderful was the ride, she almost forgot the dangers facing her father, Alec, and Cindy. Then she saw the depot in which the telegraph station was located and drew Thunder to a walk.
At least ten trains were moving slowly into Oklahoma. There were faces at every window of every car. Men clung to the platforms between the cars, and as many men as could find room there were sitting on the tops of the cars. Even as Mindy watched, a sack came sailing through an open window. A moment later, the man who had thrown his provisions out jumped through the same window and landed on his feet. But another face appeared at once. Plainly, there were as many people in each car as could possibly be squeezed into such a conveyance.
Mindy stopped Thunder at the little station. The agent in charge looked tired, but he smiled when he saw Mindy.
"Hello there, young lady," he said.
"Hello," said Mindy. "Gee! That's a lot of trains!"
"There were fifteen," the man said. "All of them made up at Arkansas City, up in Kansas. But they came the sixty miles through the Cherokee Strip to line up at the border just before noon."
"Where are all the people going?" Mindy inquired.
"Most of them are headed for Guthrie to stake city lots," the man said. "But some are jumping off to stake homesteads all the way between here and Guthrie. What can I do for you, young lady?"
Mindy gave the man her message, paid for it, and thanked him. Mounting Thunder, she rode at a swift clip back to the Simpsons' wagon. Looking very worried, her mother met her.
"Mindy!" Mrs. Simpson exclaimed. "Thank God! You're all right!"
"Why, of course, Mother," Mindy said.
"We thought you'd take a work horse!" Mrs. Simpson said. "The one you took is an outlaw!"
"Outlaw?" Mindy questioned. "Why, Thunder's the gentlest pony I ever saw!"
"Only with you then!" said Gramps. "Pete has all he can do to handle Thunder when he's saddled, and you rode him bareback! Nobody else in the world could have done that! You certainly have a way with horses!"
Mindy patted Thunder's neck. "He knew I'd never hurt him, so he wouldn't hurt me either." She looked around the camp, then asked the question she had hoped she'd not have to ask. "Didn't Cindy and Alec come back?"
"Not yet," said Mrs. Simpson.
"Don't you worry, Mother," Mindy said. "They'll come." But even as she spoke, she wished she could believe it herself.
Nimble-footed as a deer, the roan pony Cindy rode responded instantly to the lightest touch of the reins. Cindy leaned forward in the saddle, giving all her attention to the task at hand and driven by just one thought. Her father must have his gun. Without it, he might run afoul of very grave danger.
She peered through the haze of dust that had been churned up by thousands of pounding feet ahead, and tried to see the pair she sought. They were nowhere in sight, and she hadn't the faintest idea in which direction they were going. But she must find them.
In the first few minutes, the Run was taking more definitely the only pattern it could have. The horsemen were surging ahead with, naturally, the best riders on the fastest mounts in the lead. Next came the wagons and carts, and last a horde of running people.
Cindy was among the people. She could not let the pony have his full speed because, if she did, she would knock somebody down. She wondered fleetingly where all the men had come from. There hadn't seemed to be nearly that many, but they were here now. Seeing an opening, she touched Sparkle with her heels, and he shot through the crowd.
For twenty yards she had clear riding, but ahead were more people. One, a burly man in a red shirt, heard hoofbeats behind him and looked over his shoulder. He turned, stopped, and when Sparkle came near he leaped at the pony's head.
"Give me that horse, boy!" he roared.
Cindy's heart caught in her throat, but Sparkle was true to his training. Frightened by the man's leap, he still obeyed the rein and swerved around him so closely that Cindy's leg brushed the man's shirt. As she rode on, she had time for a chuckle.
The burly man had thought she was a boy. Nobody expected to find a girl riding in this, the greatest and most exciting race in history. However, now that she had prevented one attempt to take her pony, she had confidence that she could foil others.
Riding expertly, she watched for open spaces through which she could guide Sparkle. Soon she drew ahead of most of the running men. Only the swiftest were in front of her now, and they were scattered. A lean man with a pack on his back was running desperately. Even as Cindy watched, he let his pack fall to the ground. Relieved of its weight, he ran a little faster, and when Cindy flashed past he yelled:
"Oklahoma! Yip-pee!"
Twenty yards farther on, a big man who was one of the leaders cast an anxious glance back over his shoulder. The man's face was sweat-streaked, and sweat-damp hair clung tightly to his head. He continued to run, peeling off his shirt as he did so, and when the shirt was in his hands he stopped running and threw it on the ground. Cindy knew he did so to mark this claim as his own.
"My claim!" he bellowed in a voice like a bull's. "My claim! Ever'body stay off my claim!"
When Cindy rode past he was still shouting. She risked a single backward glance to see the man who had staked his claim in a furious fist fight with the man who had thrown his pack away. Nobody stopped to watch the battle.
Cindy slackened the reins, touched Sparkle with her heels, and said softly to the pony, "Come on, Sparkle!"
He shot ahead like a coursing greyhound, and Cindy's heart began to sing. This was how she had felt when she had dreamed of riding into Oklahoma. Sparkle was not a horse but a bird, and at long last Cindy knew what it was to fly. She flew past the foremost of the running men and caught up with the slowest wagons. She drew abreast of the first, a heavy wagon pulled by four little horses.
His hair flying in the wind, a man stood on the seat with the reins in one hand and plying a whip with the other. He seemed in danger of falling off at any second. Nevertheless he leaned far forward, as though by simply pointing himself at Oklahoma he could make the horses run faster. But they were already doing their best and had no more speed to offer. Cindy passed a man whose horse had fallen.
The horse, a nice-looking sorrel, was down in the hindquarters and up in the front. The man—and judging by his brightly checked suit and derby hat, he was a city man—was trying to make the horse get to his feet by pulling on the reins. But either the horse had been hurt by inexpert riding and couldn't get up, or he was stubborn and wouldn't. Cindy rode on, at last understanding why Pete had refused to rent his ponies and her father his mules, even for the fabulous sum of fifty dollars. Far too many of the people riding in this great Run knew nothing about handling horses. Cindy drew up on the next wagon.
It was one she did not recognize, but the man driving it was a horseman. Instead of urging his beasts to their fullest speed, he was holding them in. Cindy applauded mentally. That man's horses might not be fresh, but they would be ready for one final spurt when many of the others were hopelessly exhausted. Cindy drew up on the next wagon.
She was pleased to see that it belonged to the family who had been "out" in so many places and must make out in Oklahoma. She hoped they'd get a claim, but as she passed, one of the horses began to stumble. Cindy choked back a sob. She could not stop and offer help because, above all, she must take the gun to her father.
Doing somewhat better than anyone except himself had thought he could, the man with the bicycle was ahead of all the wagons and pedaling furiously forward. Beside him, elbows flying like a bird's wings, and kicking both heels constantly into his mount's ribs, was the old man with the sorry-looking mule.
Only the very fast were ahead of her now. Sparkle, fleet-footed and long-winded, had the additional advantage of carrying probably the lightest rider in the Run. Far from faltering, he had reserves of speed and strength. Cindy held him in. She might need those reserves.
She began to worry. Where were her father and Pete Brent? The better to see, she rose in the stirups. She saw scattered horsemen when she arose, but not the two she wanted. Cindy looked back at the onrushing crowd and for a moment wished she could go back. She dared not. Her father must have his gun.
The two men who appeared before her did so so unexpectedly that it was as though they had sprouted from the earth itself. Twenty feet apart, they stretched a rope between them. Almost certainly, they wanted to stop her and take Sparkle.