They rode down the knoll, and the men took their coats off. Cindy removed her jacket, for she was perspiring, and dropped it in the grass.

"Don't forget where it is," her father warned.

"I won't, Dad," Cindy promised.

They rode until Pete halted them.

"Stick your flag in right here, Jed," he told Cindy's father.

"Here?" Mr. Simpson questioned.

"This is it."

Mr. Simpson dismounted, and holding the tired Sunshine's reins, he took the flag from his saddle and rammed the pointed end of the stick into the ground.

"I christen thee Simpsonia," he said solemnly.

"Good enough." Pete couldn't lose his grin. "Now I'll stake."

In spite of the long run, Pete's pony still had enough spirit to canter. Pete rode him through the oak grove and thrust his flag into the center of the claim he wanted. Cindy dismounted and petted Sparkle. She had thought that claiming the homesteads would be the most exciting part of all, but she was just as happy that it wasn't. There'd been enough excitement for one day.

Still grinning broadly, Pete came riding back.

"It's our land now," he said. "Let's care for the horses, and I'll show you where the corners are."

They rode to the oak grove, stripped their mounts, rubbed them down, and Pete and Jed staked their horses on picket ropes. Cindy had no rope, but Sparkle showed no wish to leave his friends, and all three horses started happily to crop the rich grass.

"Now I'll show you—" Pete began.

"Hey!" Cindy shouted.

They had left the sacks of food with their other gear. Cindy looked around just in time to see a little black bear with a sack of food in his mouth running through the oak grove and into the tall grass. Jed drew his revolver, but before he could shoot the little bear had disappeared. Jed sheathed his gun.

"Doggone! There goes half our grub!" he exclaimed.

"And with three of us to eat what's left," Pete mourned, "we're likely to be on short rations. I'd better take care of the other sack."

He returned to the grove, pulled down a supple oak branch, tied the remaining sack to it, and let the branch spring upward. Coming back, Pete shrugged. The lost food was a serious matter, but there was no use complaining.

"Our claims adjoin down by the creek," Pete said, "and each of us has enough creek frontage so that we'll never lack for water. Come on."

He led them to the creek and showed them a neat cairn, or pile, of rocks that the government surveyors had placed there. Some of the rocks had tumbled down, but they were quickly replaced and the cairn built higher. Cindy looked at the creek.

The water had eaten into the opposite bank to form a pool about ten feet long, six feet wide and twenty inches deep. But the entrance was no more than about two feet wide by eight inches deep. Lurking in the center of the pool were at least fifteen big fish that had swum out of the creek to hunt minnows.

"Your next corner," said Pete, "is down here."

He led them to another pile of rocks, and they built that up. Then he took them to the rest of the boundary markers that defined these claims. They were so busy building up the cairns that Cindy was astonished to find themselves surrounded.

There had been no one else in sight when they arrived. Now, wherever Cindy looked, she saw picketed horses or mules and busy men. The white tops of two covered wagons glowed in the descending sun. At least two of those who had put their faith in wagons had made it this far.

Mr. Simpson, who had been carrying a big boulder to the last corner, added it to the cairn and straightened. He looked around.

Mr. Simpson added a big boulder to the cairn

"Seems as though we have neighbors, Pete," he remarked.

"It was bound to be," Pete said. "This is some of the best land in Oklahoma, and we Boomers have known of it for a long while. Bet most of the people around us are Boomers."

"What do we do now?" Jed asked.

Pete, still grinning, yawned. "Let's make camp."

They went back to the oak grove. Jed broke brittle branches from a tree that had fallen and died, and Pete built a fire. He opened the sack of food, cut strips of bacon, and inserted a stick of green wood into the hollow handle of a frying pan. The wood lengthened the handle, so that Pete was able to hold the frying pan over the fire without burning his hand. He cooked the bacon, and when it was done he laid all the slices at one side of the frying pan and scooped a generous portion of already-cooked beans in beside them. Mr. Simpson brought three slabs of clean bark, and Pete divided the food into three equal portions.

They were hungry, for they had worked hard, and since there were no spoons or forks they had to eat with their fingers. It was, Cindy thought, a delightful way to dine, and she had never known that bacon, warmed-over beans, and stale biscuits could taste so good. After she'd eaten her portion she was still hungry, but she purposely avoided looking at the nearly empty sack. The food had been intended for one person, not three, and there was just enough left for a skimpy breakfast.

"I'm full," said Mr. Simpson, throwing his slab of bark into the fire.

"I am, too," Pete said. "How about, you, Cindy?"

"Um-um-yummy." Cindy did not want to tell a lie.

The grazing horses raised their heads and stared hard toward something which only they knew was coming. Pete and Jed got to their feet, and their hands hovered very near their holstered guns. A moment later two horsemen appeared on top of a hillock and started toward them. Pete grinned reassuringly. "It's all right. I know them. They're Cal and Sim Macklin."

The horsemen came near, and one of the riders shouted, "Hi! You old Boomer!"

"Who are you calling 'Boomer'?" Pete shouted back. "And who 'boomed' any harder than you two?"

"Can we have some wood for a fire?"

"Sure thing," Pete said. "These are Jed and Cindy Simpson. They're with me."

"Glad to know you," Sim Macklin said cordially, and Cal added his greeting.

The two men cared for their horses and came into the oak grove. Cindy liked them immediately, for they seemed to be a special kind of men. They were quiet, but they were self-assured and gave the impression that they could take care of themselves anywhere.

"Had anything to eat?" Pete asked.

Cal Macklin grinned. "We sort of came away without a grubstake."

"I'll fix you something right away."

Pete started cooking the rest of the bacon and beans, took the remaining biscuits from the sack, and Cindy groaned inwardly. They'd have no breakfast at all now, but they couldn't deny hungry people.

"Get your claims?" Pete asked.

"I got one next section over," said Cal. "Sim's looking for a town lot."

Cal took a little coil of wire from his pocket, bent an end that had been sticking him, and put the coil back.

"How are things in Plains City?" asked Pete.

"Wild," said Sim. "Six claimers for every lot. They've staked the streets and everything else. I'll wait until it quiets down and buy me a lot. Meanwhile I'm hanging out with Cal. I'm going back for his wagon tomorrow."

"Would you mind," Mr. Simpson spoke up, "stopping by our wagon and asking my son to come up too?"

"I'll be glad to. Where's your wagon?"

"Right next to mine," said Pete, "on the border a half mile north of Sycamore Crossing."

"I'll find it," Sim promised. "Anything special you want?"

"You can tell Alec to bring the tools, and I'd like an extra team of mules. Tell my wife that Cindy's safe and we can use some food."

"Sure," said Sim.

Before dark, five more Boomers had come to the grove. Three of them had nothing to eat, but the other two divided their food. Every claim, they said, was staked. Oklahoma had been almost settled in half a day. There was no doubt that Sooners had much choice land, and there were many arguments and claim jumping. Because they had known exactly where to go, the Boomers had many of the finest homesteads.

The Boomers were still, Cindy felt, a special breed. It was hard to imagine them jumping any claims, but just as hard to imagine anyone jumping theirs. Cindy yawned.

"Tired, honey?" her father asked.

"Sort of."

"Guess we could all use some sleep."

Cindy slept with her head on Sparkle's saddle and the saddle blanket over her. She did not awaken until the sun was rising. The Boomers who'd camped with them had already gone their separate ways, but Jed and Pete still slept. Lacking tools, they could do no work. But if they left their claims, somebody might jump them.

Going to the creek, Cindy drank as much water as she could hold and told herself she wasn't hungry. Rising, she saw a wagon coming over a hillock. It contained the family who had to "make out" in Oklahoma.

Pete and Jed joined Cindy, and the wagon drew to a stop beside them. The man and woman were on the seat, and the woman looked very worried. The man seemed more tired than ever, and evidently the children were asleep in the wagon.

"Howdy," the man said.

"Hi," said Jed and Pete together.

"How far," the man asked, "do you have to go into Oklyhomy to find land that ain't staked?"

"I'm afraid," said Pete, "that you're too late."

"You mean," and the man seemed to grow more tired and the woman more worried with each passing second, "it's all took up?"

"I'm afraid it is."

"I started good," the man said hoarsely, "but a horse played out. Time I'd rested him, it was midnight. I started right out again."

"I'm sorry," said Pete.

"This your claim?" the man asked Jed.

"That's right."

"And that one's yours?"

"Yes, it is," said Pete.

"Whose is that'n over yonder?"

Cindy, her father, and Pete Brent looked at each other. There were homesteaders on every claim except the one where a youngster had thrown her jacket down. Boomers had honored this sign of ownership.

"That's yours!" Cindy cried. "Go stake it!"