"Sit down, uncle," cried some one, and the old man came to an anchor with the rest of us round the stove. "Talking of old times, uncle," we said. "You came in pretty early, didn't you?" "Well, I guess it was in 1846," said he, in a plaintive, slow voice. "We came over the Plains, the old lady and I, from Illinois. We had a pretty good ox-team, and we got through safe." "Did you have any fighting, uncle?" "Well, no; there was too many in the company when we started, and they did get to quarreling, so I jest left them with one or two more--any day rather fight than have a fuss; so I thought we'd jest take our chance with the Injuns, though they was pretty bad then. We were nigh to six months on the road." "Which way did you come into Oregon?" "By Klamath Lake and Rogue River. The worst piece on the whole journey was that Rogue River cañon; you know where that is?" "Yes, uncle, came through it at a sharp run on the California stage a month ago." "Well, there warn't no stage then--no, nor road either. You know it is about eight miles long, and I calc'late you might go a quarter of a mile at a time on the bodies of the horses and oxen that had died there. No man got through without leaving some of his cattle there. Tell you, sir, when you once got into the place, seemed like there was no end to it, and you jest got to face the music; for there warn't no other way." "How did this country strike you when you got through?" "Well, the old lady and me jest thought lots of it. We took up our claims in King's Valley--you know the place--jest the nicest kind of a place, with lots of grass and a nice river. You had all the timber you wanted on the mountains close by, and jest lots of deer and elk." "Pretty lonely, though, wasn't it?" "Well, it was kinder lonely, but we had lots to do, and the time passed very quick. The country settled up quick, and we had all the neighbors we wanted." "Any trouble with Indians, uncle?" "No; the Calapooyas would thieve a bit, but fifty of them cusses would jest scare from five or six of us settlers with our rifles. And the Klick-i-tats were good Injuns, and never troubled us any. Those were good old times, boys." And the old man rose to go, with a sigh. [Sidenote: _CHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES._]