By this time it would have been hard to say which were the muddier and dirtier, the boys or the pigs, but a swim in the river soon removed the mud, and the rubber boots and suits they had worn were washed at the same time, so that they were soon fresh and clean.
The next day was bright and clear, and soon after their early breakfast Mr. Peniman, Joe, Lige, and Sam set off for the far side of their claim to cut the prairie grass for hay.
Mr. Peniman had staked out his own claim of 160 acres, laying out at the same time a 160 acre tract for Joe on one side of it and Lige on the other, to be pre-empted as soon as the boys should be old enough.
They took all three teams, and while Mr. Peniman and Joe began cutting the long, rich prairie grass Lige and Sam guided the plows, turning over the sod for their fall planting.
As this side of the claim was quite a distance from the house they had taken their lunch with them, and had just finished eating, and Joe was tipping up the jug to take a swig of water, when he stopped short, the jug at his shoulder, staring with fixed gaze across the plains.
"Indians!" he shouted, "Indians!" and dashing down the jug leaped for the horses.
Joshua Peniman at the same moment had seen the horsemen dashing across the open plateau to the south of them.
With a leap he sprang to the other team and began loosing them from the plow.
Joe and Lige had by this time got Kit and Billy free and throwing themselves across their backs had started for home in a mad gallop.
In the minds of all was the same terrible thought. Mrs. Peniman and the children were there unprotected and alone.