“I certainly am,” replied Hugh. “I would not purposely take the life of a worm. To me the freedom these little prairie-dogs enjoy in the companionship of their mates is very beautiful, and I should be grieved to see even one of them deprived of liberty. Then, too, they are the most hospitable creatures in the world. It is said that a prairie-dog town is the home of as many rattlesnakes and owls as of dogs, all occupying the same underground apartments. Whether they do so willingly or not, I am unable to say. I only know that such a condition prevails, and it is said that they live in perfect harmony.” Jack Redfield insisted upon riding clear through the dog town, and was greatly interested in chasing the dogs, watching their rapid disappearance and then reappearance and the blinking of their bright eyes. The afternoon was well-spent before they reached Meade. On entering the town they came by the public school building. Through an open window the united melody of a hundred little voices rose and fell in their afternoon exercises before dismissal. They were singing: “John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave, John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave.” “Ah,” said Jack, as he turned to Hugh, “there is indeed a patriotism peculiar to itself in the great Southwest. I have marveled at your love for the frontier, but why should I, when the very air is redolent with the songs of school children immortalizing the great emancipator, John Brown? I am beginning to have a profound respect for the Sunflower State myself.” “Yes,” said Hugh, “it is the birthplace and home of Ethel Horton.” “Ah!” said Jack, looking up quickly, “what magic there is in that name. The good right arm of the breadwinner is strengthened more, my dear Hugh, by an unexpected caress or an encouraging word from loved ones than by all the roast beef in Christendom.” CHAPTER XXX.—THE QUARREL MRS. HORTON was tireless in her devotion to Ethel. “The poor child,” said she to Mrs. Osborn, “needs a change—salt breeze and good old English air again, and then the color will come back to her cheeks.” “How charming it will be,” replied Mrs. Osborn, “to see jolly old England once more.” She was a little nervous as she spoke, and seemed ill at ease. She had called at the Hortons’, accompanied by Lord Avondale. Ethel begged to be excused, pleading weariness, and remained in her room. The English lord seemed anything but dejected at Ethel’s not wishing to see him, and, with his pipe, he strolled leisurely down the graveled walk toward the lake. A sense of proprietorship came to him as he walked back and forth in a contemplative mood. A wedding portion in good government bonds had already been formally agreed upon.