“Why, yes,” flushed the boy, “I suppose so, but I thought no one walked out West.”
The answer drew a hearty laugh from their companion. “You’re not on a ranch, but a farm,” he replied, finally. “Besides, we can examine the land much better on foot. At the Land Office they’ll ask you if you are familiar with the land on which you wish to file, and I want you to be able to say ‘yes’ truthfully.”
“Will our things be safe here?” inquired Phil. “No; probably the neighbour’s children will run off with them,” smiled their companion. “Seriously, though, they will. You don’t need locks in this part of the world. If any one does come along, he’ll eat what he needs, if he is out of grub himself, but he won’t harm or steal anything. Of course, there may be an occasional ‘bad man,’ but he is soon run out of the region. And another thing, don’t refuse a meal to any one or to help any one. You never know when you may need one or both.”
“There, Phil, you see the trees aren’t very thick,” observed his brother, as their guide concluded. “And over to the right there are none at all. We’ll plow that up first.”
“Better keep it to graze your stock on; cattle and horses like this natural grass,” advised Andy.
“What we shall do when you leave us, I don’t know,” said Phil.
“I don’t mean to be ‘bossy.’ I’m just trying to give you all the pointers I can.”
“I realize that, Andy. It’s only that we don’t seem to hit anything right. Hey, Ted, what are you digging for—gold?”
“No, angleworms. I read somewhere that you should never buy land for a farm where there were no angleworms, the soil wouldn’t be productive.”
“I’m afraid you won’t find any, there’s too much duff,” said the agent.