Gold-fever she meant, of course. Father Richards smiled, and rubbed his hair where it showed a white streak over the wound received when on their road out from the Missouri River, a year ago, to settle on the ranch, he had been knocked off his horse in fording Wildcat Creek, and had disappeared for months. Only by great good fortune had Terry found him, wandering in, through a blizzard, from the Pike's Peak gold fields; and had brought him home in time for a merry Christmas.
"Not 'again.' Don't know as I'd call it gold-fever, exactly. But I feel a bit like Terry does—I want to join the crowd. It was the same way, in coming to Kansas. We thought this was to be the West; and now there's another West. This ranch can be made to pay—I'm certain it can if we're able to hold on long enough and weather the droughts and grasshoppers and low prices. But——"
"Harry and Terry and I made it pay," reminded Mother Richards, with a flash of pride.
"Yes, you all did bravely. But you managed it by cutting and selling the timber. The timber won't last forever, and the grasshoppers may! This is rather a lonely life, for you, yet, up in here. Out at the mountains, though, they've founded those two towns, Denver and Auraria, and probably others; and I believe opportunities will be more there than here."
"Do you intend to sell the ranch?" asked Mrs. Richards, a little pale. She loved the ranch, which she had helped to make.
"We'll talk that over. I wouldn't sell unless you consented. It's your place; you and Terry and Harry've done most of the work."
"But you said I could go right away, Pa; didn't you?" enthused Terry. "Then I'll take the wagon and Buck and Spot, and Shep—and Harry; and——"
"Hold on," bade his father. "Not quite so fast. I said you're to find your own outfit. If we sell the ranch, you'll have to leave part of it as a sample to show to customers. Those oxen are valuable. Oxen'll be as good as gold, in this country. The rush across the plains will sweep up every kind of work critter. If you take Buck and Spot, how'll anybody on this ranch do the ploughing? And if you take the wagon, what'll become of the hauling?"
"And if you take Harry, who'll help your father and me?" chimed in his mother.
"Shucks!" bemoaned Terry. "There's the old mare, and the colt—and a cow—and——"