“Why can’t we have some hens this fall, daddy?” asked Sandy, luxuriating in a big bowl of custard sweetened with brown sugar, which the skilful Charlie had compounded. “We can build a hen-house there by the corral, under the lee of the cabin, and make it nice and warm for the winter. 201 Battles has got hens to sell, and perhaps Mr. Younkins would be willing to sell us some of his.”
“If we stay, Sandy, we will have some fowls; but we will talk about that by and by,” said his father.
“Stay?” echoed Sandy. “Why, is there any notion of going back? Back from ‘bleeding Kansas’? Why, daddy, I’m ashamed of you.”
Mr. Howell smiled and looked at his brother-in-law. “Things do not look very encouraging for a winter in Kansas, bleeding or not bleeding; do they, Charlie?”
“Well, if you appeal to me, father,” replied the lad, “I shall be glad to stay and glad to go home. But, after all, I must say, I don’t exactly see what we can do here this winter. There is no farm work that can be done. But it would cost an awful lot of money to go back to Dixon, unless we took back everything with us and went as we came. Wouldn’t it?”
Younkins did not say anything, but he looked approvingly at Charlie while the other two men discussed the problem. Mr. Bryant said it was likely to be a hard winter; they had no corn to sell, none to feed to their cattle. “But corn is so cheap that the settlers over on Solomon’s Fork say they will use it for fuel this winter. Battles told me so. I’d like to see a fire of corn on the cob; they say it makes a hot fire burned that way. Corn-cobs without corn hold the heat a long time. I’ve tried it.” 202
“It is just here, boys,” said Uncle Aleck. “The folks at home are lonesome; they write, you know, that they want to come out before the winter sets in. But it would be mighty hard for women out here, this coming winter, with big hulking fellows like us to cook for and with nothing for us to do. Everything to eat would have to be bought. We haven’t even an ear of corn for ourselves or our cattle. Instead of selling corn at the post, as we expected, we would have to buy of our neighbors, Mr. Younkins here, and Mr. Fuller, and we would be obliged to buy our flour and groceries at the post, or down at Manhattan; and they charge two prices for things out here; they have to, for it costs money to haul stuff all the way from the river.”
“That’s so,” said Younkins, resignedly. He was thinking of making a trip to “the river,” as the settlers around there always called the Missouri, one hundred and fifty miles distant. But Younkins assured his friends that they were welcome to live in his cabin where they still were at home, for another year, if they liked, and he would haul from the river any purchases that they might make. He was expecting to be ready to start for Leavenworth in a few days, as they knew, and one of them could go down with him and lay in a few supplies. His team could haul enough for all hands. If not, they could double up the two teams and bring back half of Leavenworth, if they had the money to buy so much. He “hated 203 dreadfully” to hear them talking about going back to Illinois.
But when the settlers reached home and found amusement and some little excitement in the digging up of their household treasures and putting things in place once more, the thought of leaving this home in the Far West obtruded itself rather unpleasantly on the minds of all of them, although nobody spoke of what each thought. Oscar had hidden his precious violin high up among the rafters of the cabin, being willing to lose it only if the cabin were burned. There was absolutely no other place where it would be safe to leave it. He climbed to the loft overhead and brought it forth with great glee, laid his cheek lovingly on its body and played a familiar air. Engrossed in his music, he played on and on until he ran into the melody of “Home, Sweet Home,” to which he had added many curious and artistic variations.
“Don’t play that, Oscar; you make me homesick!” cried Charlie, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes. “It was all very well for us to hear that when this was the only home we had or expected to have; but daddy and Uncle Charlie have set us to thinking about the home in Illinois, and that will make us all homesick, I really believe.”