They hugged each other, and still holding hands, stepped apart. "When did you come?" Cindy asked happily.

"Daddy met the train to see if there was a message from me. He found me instead."

"Oh! It's so nice to have you back!"

"Sit down, children," Mrs. Simpson said quietly. "If you become too excited neither one of you will sleep tonight. Oh dear, Cindamine! Catsup all over your dress again!"

"I'll wash it, Mother," Cindy said cheerfully.

"I know, dear," her mother said, "but you're eleven now, going on twelve. Isn't it time you were becoming a lady, like Miranda?"

"Sure, Mom," Cindy said agreeably.

She sat in the trampled grass beside her sister, and their arms stole about each other. Pete Brent, a tall, lean, dark-haired man with friendly eyes and a ready smile, chuckled.

"I declare! If 'twasn't for that catsup, I couldn't tell 'em apart!"

"Neither can anyone else," their father said.

"Not unless they watched them," Mrs. Simpson spoke up. "Miranda's always the lady, and Cindamine always the tomboy. She's forever in some scrape."

"Cindy will be a lady some day," Mindy defended her twin.

"Sure I will, Mom," Cindy agreed. "How did I do?"

"Except that you said 'leaderdemain' rather than 'legerdemain,' you did very well," Mrs. Simpson said.

"I'll remember next time," Cindy promised.

Alec chuckled. "Cindy's a 'witch girl' now," he remarked.

"Merciful heavens!" their mother gasped.

"Oh, it isn't that bad. Her magic just scared the daylights out of some man. I stood right next to him, and he was shaking in his boots."

"Who was it?" Pete Brent asked curiously.

Alec searched the crowd, which was now watching a juggler who had taken Cindy's place on the tailboard. He saw the short, swarthy man and pointed him out. Pete Brent shook his head soberly.

"No wonder he was scared."

"Who is he?" Mr. Simpson asked.

"Tom LaMott. He's part Indian, part Spanish, and part nobody knows what. He believes in devils, and it's easy to understand why Cindy's magic tricks seemed like deviltry to him."

"Is he bad?" Mindy asked.

"I myself know of nothing very bad he's ever done, but according to the stories going around, he isn't good," Pete replied.

Mrs. Simpson said doubtfully, "Sometimes I wish we'd stayed in Missouri."

"This is no better and no worse than Missouri, Mrs. Simpson," Pete said respectfully.

"You said yourself that that man's a heathen."

"You will," Pete pointed out, "find them in Missouri, New York, or any other place you go."

"Say what you please, Pete, this is different from Missouri."

"Only because of the crowd gathered here. But ninety-five per cent of them are honest, hard-working, God-fearing people. They don't want a thing except a chance at some of the last good free land left in the country under control of the United States."

"How about the other five per cent?" Mrs. Simpson asked.

"Well," Pete said reluctantly, "I wouldn't want to cross that border without a gun."

"If you know you'll need a gun, then you must know of dangers," said Mrs. Simpson.

"Now, Ann," big Jed Simpson said easily, "there isn't a thing to worry about."

"I hope not."

"We have good stock, good equipment, and, thank God, we're all healthy and together again. There is no reason why we don't have a good chance," Mr. Simpson told her. "Looks as though the show's over," he added.

They drifted back toward their wagons, which were side by side. Pete's big draft horses and his four trim, fast ponies, tied to a picket line, shuffled about and munched fodder. A little distance away, the Simpsons' four wagon mules were in a rope corral. But Sunshine, the swift palomino mare with the white mane and tail, the horse Mr. Simpson would ride in the Land Run, was staked on her own picket rope away from the mules, and she was eating oats. Sunshine would have to travel very fast and far.

"Coming, twins?" their mother called.

"Can't we stay and talk with Mr. Brent for a little while?" Cindy asked.

"Don't get in the way."

"In the way!" Pete snorted. "My two sweet-hearts in the way! Why, Mrs. Simpson!"

"I'd like to stay too," Alec said.

"Good!" said Pete.

CHAPTER TWO

Pete's Story

Cindy always loved to visit Pete Brent, partly because she liked him, partly because she liked his horses, and partly because she liked Gramps and Granny Brent, his father and mother. Besides, Gramps knew the most wonderful stories, and Granny baked the most marvelous ginger cookies which she passed out with a very free hand. Cindy had looked forward to bringing Mindy to their wagon for a visit. Even though Gramps and Granny were asleep in the wagon and Mindy would not meet them until tomorrow, it was a lot of fun to be with Pete and to look at his horses.

"We'll have to be very quiet because Gramps and Granny Brent are sleeping now," Cindy whispered to her twin. "Let's go see the horses."

Two of Pete's four ponies were roan-colored, the third was sorrel, and the fourth was black and white. The two roans and the sorrel were very friendly and gentle, but the pinto trusted nobody and even tried to buck Pete off whenever Pete rode him.

Now the three gentle ponies and Pete's huge draft horses crowded as close together as they could and thrust their heads over the picket line, each horse trying to get as much attention as possible for himself. The pinto pulled as far back as his tie rope would let him go and snorted suspiciously. Though she had been on the point of warning her twin to be careful around the pinto, Cindy forgot to do so.

Alec, who had never wanted to be anything except a farmer, liked the heavy-footed draft horses best. Cindy and Mindy turned naturally to the fleet ponies. Suddenly the pinto snorted again, softly and gently this time, and came up to thrust a friendly muzzle at Mindy.

"Mindy!" exclaimed Cindy.

"What's the matter?" asked Mindy, who was happily stroking the pony's soft nose.

"That's Thunder, and he isn't supposed to like anyone!"

"He likes me," Mindy said. "Oh! Don't they remind you of birds?"

"Yes, they do! But Pete told me that, though they can start at a fast clip and keep it up long after a race horse would be winded, a race horse would beat any of them in a short sprint."

"I don't believe it," Mindy said. "I don't believe any other horse could even keep up with them."

"Except Daddy's Sunshine," Cindy said.

"Yes," Mindy agreed loyally, "Sunshine might."

Except for Thunder, who would let only Mindy touch him, they petted each pony in turn, stroked the draft horses, petted the ponies again, and Cindy asked Alec, "Wouldn't you just love to have one?"

"Sure would," Alec agreed, "but I'd rather have this work team. They could pull a plow for ten hours, then do it again the next day and the day after, and still come back for more."

"You have the team, and we'll take the ponies," Cindy said. "Let's go back and see Mr. Brent."

They stole back, remembering to be very quiet in order not to awaken Gramps and Granny, and sat on the wagon tongue. Pete lighted his pipe, and when the match flared it illumined his strong face. For the first time Cindy found herself thinking of it as a young face, even though Pete must be almost thirty. Cindy said eagerly, "Tell us about Oklahoma."

"There now, young lady," Pete's grin was felt rather than seen, "I've already told you at least six times."

"Please!" begged Cindy, who had an almost passionate interest in this new land that was to be her home. "Mindy hasn't heard the story."

"Do you want to hear it, honey?" Pete asked.

"I'd love to," Mindy said.

Pete sat