Sandy did not like to be called "sonny," but he good-naturedly agreed that he had made a mistake; so he began all over again and shifted his cargo so that the nails and a box of yeast-powder occupied one end of the meal-sack, and the other articles balanced the other. The load was then tied closely to the crupper of the saddle and the boy was ready to start on his homeward trip. His eyes roved longingly over the stock of goodies which the sutler kept for the children, young and old, of the garrison, and he asked, "How much for raisins?" "Two bits a pound for box, and fifteen cents for cask," replied the man, sententiously. "Give me half a pound of cask raisins," said the boy, with some hesitation. He had only a few cents to spare for his own purchases. The sutler weighed out a half-pound of box raisins, did them up, and handed them across the counter, saying, "No pay; them's for Whittier." Sandy took the package, shoved it into his shirt-bosom, and, wondering if his "Thank you" were sufficient payment for the gift, mounted his steed, rode slowly up the road to a spring that he had noticed bubbling out of the side of a ravine, and with a thankful heart, turning out the horse to graze, sat down to eat his frugal lunch, now graced with the dry but to him delicious raisins. So the sutler at Fort Riley was a free-State man! Wasn't that funny! It was a beautifully bright afternoon, and Sandy, gathering his belongings together, started up the river road on a brisk canter. The old horse was a hard trotter, and when he slackened down from a canter, poor Sandy shook in every muscle, and his teeth chattered as if he had a fit of ague. But whenever the lad contrived to urge his steed into an easier gait he got on famously. The scenery along the Republican Fork is (or was) very agreeable to the eye. Long slopes of vivid green stretched off in every direction, their rolling sides dropping into deep ravines through which creeks, bordered with dense growths of alder, birch, and young cottonwood, meandered. The sky was blue and cloudless, and, as the boy sped along the breezy uplands, the soft and balmy air fanning his face, he sung and whistled to express the fervor of his buoyant spirits. He was a hearty and a happy boy. Suddenly he came to a fork in the road which he had not noticed when he came down that way in the morning. For a moment he was puzzled by the sight. Both were broad and smooth tracks over the grassy prairie, and both rose and fell over the rolling ground; only, one led to the left and somewhat southerly, and the other to the right. "Pshaw!" muttered Sandy, and he paused and rubbed his head for an idea. "That left-hand road must strike off to some ford lower down on the Fork than I have ever been. But I never heard of any ford below ours." [Illustration: FILLING IN THE CHINKS IN THE WALLS OF THE LOG-CABIN.]