change of scen

at he made his decision to remove thither. He met with no difficulty in selling at a fair price his little property in the Pine-Tree State, and with a portion of the proceeds he bo

and occupation was that it was pleasing to his son Fred a

the wish to do so because she saw it would gratify her husband, cannot be said with certainty. There

e prospect was an inviting one to them. Their father's glowing accounts of the magnificent scenery, its

other and sister found more than a partial fulfilment, but, though the fateful day came when they regrett

day when we take up the eventful history of the family, they were g

iness, brave and true and tried. Under their tuition, and that of his father, Fred Whitney became a skilful horseman and rancher. He learned to lasso and brin

of his surname on the right. When this was burned into the flesh of the yearlings, it identified his property, no matter wh

ellent animal, of which she became very fond. A good horsewoman when in Maine, in W

Hankinson one day, while watching her spee

who was proud of his children, and

treak of lightnin'," was the

l by dashing over the country in that s

she could make good wages in breaking broncos and teaching young women

he cowman never suspected his sincerity, but felt the satisfact

e signs of running down in health while attending the high school in Boston, despite the fact that he was one of the best athletes in the institution; but he re

ginning to have trouble with the rustlers. Matters were not only going wrong, but were rapidly getting worse in Wyoming, and they were glad to secure the se

l of his attention to that section of Wyoming in which the Whitneys lived. There appeared to be mor

ged in the cattle business who were glad to have him take shelter under their roofs. Sometimes he engaged in hunting with them, and seve

coming from their native State. The building was one of the long, low wooden structures common in that section, to which the fashions of the older civilization have not

de during the forenoon, and was now trying to make up for it by

snatches of song she abrup

hear that

hat do yo

firing; something is

looking in each other's pal

Mrs. Whitney in a scared

e better. Her mother followed, and the two stood side by side, listening and peering across the wide stretch of u

ired sometimes in quick succession, often mingling with each other, and then

older," remarked Jennie, "and there was s

ment of the parent, "and w

last long

e. A score of shots have already been fired,

d our two men ar

eferring to the rustlers, who have made so