The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1900-09-15

watched. First, just above the hori-
Eon, then creeping across the level
plain-it seemed that they would
never come.
hob, Tad and roly-poly Link utfod
In line, gazing c%uriously as the WELD
hrs OF pick and shovel crossed the
boundary of the farm.
Want a ride, bubs?" called one of
the men, motioning toward the fiat
push car standing on the newly laid
track.
Course we do" and the three soys
o sat on the long car, and six bare
brown legs hanging off, while the men
trundled them along the track toward
the piles of rails and ties.
That was the beginning. The men
stayed for a long time on the Mangold
claim, for there were along the creek
bluffs and hills to work through. The
boys fairly lived beside the track and
pushed the now little used fiat car
back and forth, enjoying the novel
plaything.
wish we had an engine" remarked
Tee one summer day, gazing away to
the north; "it's such hard work push
Ing"
Bob, wide-hatted and brown-cheeked
lad of IA, had an idea. Perhaps it
came because Of the seafaring ances-
tors back in Maine, the family's native
state.
II know" he exclaimed; "let's put
up a sail!"
What can we make 1t of and where
We get it?" asked Tad. rather in
definitely.
Rob thought a minute. Then he
whispered something to the others and
a series of chuckles and le~g-slappings
followed. The three hurried through
the prairie grass homeward. Father
had gone to the county seat town 20
miles away; mother was patiently fin
tshing the weeks ironing in the sum-
mer kitchen.
Cautiously Rob led the way to the
little implanted granary where were
kept the implements and tools belong
ing to the farm. Over the plows and
binders he crawled until he came to
a pile of brown sacks-long, close
owe and soiled. When the sheep
were sheared in the spring tne fleeces
were packed in such receptacles, tramp
ed down by Rob's bare feet. A few Of
the sacks had been left and were toss
ed on the granary floor, forming one
of the favorite resting places of the
three boys.
"Just the thing" declared Rob, hold
ing one high in air, and when Tad had
Joined him they quickly ripped the
stitching and had before them several
large squares Of bagging.
Now for a mast" Nothing is quite
SO scarce on the prairie claim, long
miles from a lumber yard, as a stick
Of timber. But the granary itself was
a Climbing among the raft
ers, Rob found a long narrow board,
which he thought would do, and could
be spared. Down it came Gathering to
the floor.
Days of labor followed before tho
sail was completed. With a picture
from a magazine as a guide, and some
cord and wire for fastenings, Rob
measured and sewed, and dreamed Of
the sea, almost making himself believe
that he was to guide an obedient sloop
over blue waters.
When it was ready he lifted the odd
apparatus against the granary wall.
There were three timbers-the upright
mast and the cr~oss-pleces holding the
big and nearly square sail.
Wei call it the White Dove" an
nounced Rob.
"But it amt white" protested Tad.
"Never mind-that was the name of
grandpa's boat, and he sailed to the
Newfoundland banks in It."
So the white Dove" it was. Next
was to come the launching.
The hills and a curve in the railroad
made opportunity for the young navi-
gators. One day, when father was
again in town, they toiled toward the
track-Rob burdened with the sail
rolled tight and Tad laboriously drag
ging the timbers.
Up and down the track they looked
to the southwest it wound into the
bluffs where the men were making the
dirt fly; to the north it stretched
straight away until it was lost in the
shimmering haze of the horizon.
Quick, Tad, bring it on" were Cap
tain Rob's orders, and the equipment
OF the land sloop began. The task was
more difficult than they had thought,
but patiently they labored and con-
trived, all the time forgetful of their
surroundings or of the danger of being
discovered.
Little Link had been left behind.
Big tears made wide paths through the
dirt on his round cheeks, but he was
loyal to the adventures, who had told
him that he would be in the way at
the launching, but might go some 9TH
er time. He crawled among the plows
and binders to the remainder OF the
pile of sacks and sobbed himself to
sleep.
1t was n of those "hot-wind" days
known only on the prairies. Like
furnace breaths the air came out of
the southwest. curling the blades of
corn and willing the morning-glory
vines that sheltered the cabin win
dows. 1t was the second day Of the
"hot wind"-"There will be one more
and then rain" said the farmers.
But at the Mangold cabin there was
something besides the wind or possible
crop failure to alarm the tired mother.
Mrs. Mangold looked out of the win