"He is no fool," said the squire, who did not allow prejudice to carry him so far as his wife and son. "He is a boy of very fair abilities; but I apprehend he will find it harder to make his fortune than he anticipated. However, time will show."
"Most likely he'll come home in rags, and grow up a day-laborer," said Sinclair complacently. "When I'm a rich man I'll give him work. He won't feel like putting on airs, then."
"What a good heart Sinclair has!" said Mrs. Hudson admiringly.
Squire Hudson said nothing. Possibly the goodness of his son's heart was not so manifest to him.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE YOUNG MAN FROM BOSTON.
Soon after leaving St. Joe, the emigrant train which Tom had joined, entered the territory of Kansas. At that early day the settlement of this now prosperous State had scarcely begun. Its rich soil was as yet unvexed by the plow and the spade, and the tall prairie grass and virgin forest stretched for many and many a mile westward in undisturbed loneliness.
One afternoon, toward the setting of the sun, the caravan halted on the site of the present capital of the State, Topeka. The patient oxen, wearied with the twenty miles they had traveled, were permitted to graze. The ten baggage wagons or "ships of the plain," as they were sometimes called—came to anchor in a sea of verdure. They were ranged in a circle, the interior space being occupied as a camping-ground. Then began preparations for supper. Some of the party were sent for water. A fire was built, and the travelers, with a luxurious enjoyment of rest, sank upon the grass.
Donald Ferguson looked thoughtfully over the vast expanse of unsettled prairie, and said to Tom, "It's a great country, Tom. There seems no end to it."