supplies from their depots."

"Will everyone get land?" Mindy questioned.

Pete said, "They can't, because there isn't that much. With just under two million acres being opened up, most of which will be 160-acre homesteads, that makes something less than fifteen thousand claims. At a rough guess, even if you include all the town lots, there are three times as many people lined up on the border as there are claims. Who's going to get the land?"

"The strong and fast," Cindy said.

"And the smart and lucky," Pete added. "That's pretty much the way it always has been and always will be. In the advance of progress, and this is progress, somebody usually gets left behind. No doubt, many of the people who are able to stake no claim will feel cheated. No doubt the Indians will think they've been cheated, when cities and towns spring up. Especially the Seminoles. They used to own this area—didn't actually give it up till a few months ago. But with farmers who know the right farming methods, that land will go a long way toward helping feed a hungry world. The Indians couldn't develop it the way the white men are going to do—there aren't enough of them."

Cindy gave herself over to dreams. Thousands of land-hungry people poised on the border awaiting the signal that would send them across! Wild riding! A mad scramble! Possibly danger. Certainly adventure. It was an entrancing picture that she conjured up for herself.

"I'd love to go along!" she said impulsively.

"Me too!" Alec seconded. "But Dad says I must stay here and look after mother and you twins until the claim is ready. I'll look after Gramps and Granny too, Mr. Brent."

Pete said gently, "Thanks a lot, Alec." He turned to Mindy, "How about you?"

"I'll wait," Mindy said quietly.

"You're right," said Pete. "Alec, you and Cindy, and I know it's Cindy now because Mindy's been asking most of the questions, mustn't feel badly. You're better off here. Oklahoma will be no place for youngsters, or old people, until the claims are staked and everything is straightened out."

"I'd still love to go!" Cindy said defiantly.

"Now forget it!" Pete laughed. "You can't go."

"Somebody else," Cindy was half in tears, "always has all the fun!"

"Oh, Cindy!" Pete was hurt because he had hurt her, and he wanted to make up for it. "I was hoping you'd do a very important job for me here. Can you ride?"

"Can she ride!" Alec answered for his sister. "The horse hasn't been born that can throw Cindy! Mindy's a good rider too."

"Good!" Pete said. "Now, of my two roan ponies, one is about as fast as the other. I'm going to saddle both and leave one here for you. As soon as your dad and I have gone, you take the one I leave, ride to the telegraph station, and send this message to John Brent, care of Dasher and Brent, 816 Fourth Street, New York City. Say: 'The Run is on. Pete gone. All is well.' Will you do that?"

"If you want me to." Cindy suspected that Pete just wanted to give her something to do, but she felt a little better anyhow.

"I'd go," the conscientious Alec stared into the darkness, "but I'm not supposed to leave Mother. Why'd you ask Dad to ride with you, Mr. Brent?"

"Because I'd hoped to be able to pick at least one of my neighbors, and I picked the Simpsons."

"Children," their mother called softly. "Time for bed."

"See you tomorrow," Pete said as they rose to go. "And you mark my words. April 22, 1889, the day of this Oklahoma Run, will be a great day for the nation. Why, you three will see history made!"

CHAPTER THREE

The Sooners

In their own bed in the wagon, Cindy snuggled close against her twin sister. Cindy had never been on a train, but it sounded like a wonderful adventure, and she whispered, "Tell me about your train ride."

Mindy told her. She described the locomotive, the engineer leaning out of its window, and the sweating fireman who shoveled coal into its hungry vitals. She described each of the cars, and the people who had been in each. Mindy told of her seat in the day coach, of the people who sat in front of her, the people who sat behind her, and the people who sat across from her. She spoke of the conductor, the conductor's blue uniform, and the big brass buttons on his uniform. She described the way the car's wheels clicked on the rails, and how they seemed to sing a song. Mindy told of the depots, the various areas through which she had passed, and ended with a complete description of the box lunch Grandma Simpson had given her to take along.

Cindy sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Having Mindy tell of the ride was nearly as good as taking such a ride herself. There was a silence which Mindy broke:

"You looked so grand when you were putting on your magic show. And even though I know how you did it, I was scared when you 'killed' yourself. Often I wish I dared do the things you do."

"The things I do!" Cindy exclaimed. "Why, you're the only person in the world who's ever been able to pet Mr. Brent's Thunder pony!"

She spoke more loudly than she had intended, and their mother overheard. "Children," Mrs. Simpson called, "go to sleep now."

Mindy dropped into gentle slumber, but Cindy was far too excited to sleep. She thought of the train ride, and of how dearly she would love to take such a ride herself, but since there seemed to be no possibility of that, she began thinking of what lay about her and everything Pete Brent had said. It seemed to her that if she too could make the ride into Oklahoma, it would be even more wonderful than riding on a train. Maybe if she pleaded.... But the answer would be no.

Her father and mother began to talk in low voices, and though Cindy did not try to listen, she couldn't help hearing.

"I'm worried, Jed," her mother said. "I can't help thinking that something will go wrong."

"Now, Ann," Jed Simpson soothed, "you know very well that I can take care of myself."

"Yes, but—Oh, Jed! I always hated to see you wear a gun when you were marshal back in Lowville! But please wear it this time!"

Cindy became more alert. So her quiet father had been a gun-carrying law officer! She'd never known.

"Now don't you worry," she heard her father say, "I'll take the gun even though I don't expect to have any use for it."

"I'll be terrified if you don't!" Ann Simpson said. "I couldn't bear to think of you out there with no way to defend yourself! All those people!"

"They're good people, Ann. There's nothing to fear. You heard what Pete said."

"I heard him say that ninety-five per cent of them are good and he wouldn't care to cross the border without his gun! Oh, I do wish we'd stayed in Missouri!"

"In Missouri I was just a hired man," Mr. Simpson reminded her.

"But we always had enough, and we were happy. To give it up and take these awful risks!"

"Now, Ann," Cindy's father's voice became firm, "this is the Simpsons' chance, perhaps the only one we'll ever have, to rise in the world. There may be some small risk, but nobody ever gained anything without risking something. Think of the children, and of how much more we'll be able to give them if we have our own farm instead of depending on a hired man's wages."

"But there aren't even any schools out there!"

"There will be," Jed Simpson said. "Schools will follow on the heels of the settlers. So will roads, towns, and even cities! And do you know who one schoolteacher might be?"

"Who?"

"Mrs. Jed Simpson."

"Jed!"

"I mean it, Ann. You're a college graduate. And