CHAPTER IX.
SETTING THE STAKES.
“We mustn’t let any grass grow under our feet, boys,” was Mr. Aleck Howell’s energetic remark, next morning, when the little party had finished their first breakfast in their new home.
“That means work, I s’pose,” replied Oscar, turning a longing glance to his violin hanging on the side of the cabin, with a broken string crying for repairs.
“Yes, and hard work, too,” said his father, noting the lad’s look. “Luckily for us, Brother Aleck,” he continued, “our boys are not afraid of work. They have been brought up to it, and although I am thinking they don’t know much about the sort of work that we shall have to put in on these beautiful prairies, I guess they will buckle down to it. Eh?” and the loving father turned his look from the grassy and rolling plain to his son’s face.
Sandy answered for him. “Oh, yes, Uncle Charlie, we all like work! Afraid of work? Why, Oscar and I are so used to it that we would be willing to lie right down by the side of it, and 96 sleep as securely as if it were as harmless as a kitten! Afraid of work? Never you fear ‘the Dixon boys who fear no noise’––what’s the rest of that song?”
Nobody knew, and, in the laugh that followed, Mr. Howell suggested that as Younkins was coming over the river to show them the stakes of their new claims, the boys might better set an extra plate at dinner-time. It was very good of Younkins to take so much trouble on their account, and the least they could do was to show him proper hospitality.
“What is all this about stakes and quarter-sections, anyway, father?” asked Sandy. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t know what quarter-sections are!” shouted Charlie. “Oh, my! what an ignoramus!”