He went on to speak of bitter storms, endless grasslands, crop failures, hostile Indians, unfriendly white men. Then he balanced his tale with stories of abundant crops, sunshine, plenty for all, dancing, and happiness. Sitting at the feet of these two, who had lived almost as long as people can live and seen almost as much as people can see, the children forgot their own fears and worries, and they almost forgot the passage of time. "It's ten minutes past eleven!" somebody yelled. Trying his best to look at ease, but making a poor job of it, Pete came to the wagon. He smiled at his parents and the youngsters. "Guess I'll saddle the ponies," he said. "Are you taking two, Pete?" Gramps asked. "No. Just one. Cindy's riding the other roan to the telegraph office to let John know the Run is on." "John's our other son," Granny said softly. "He wasn't born for the West, but he does very well in New York." She followed Pete with her eyes. "Pete is young, and he feels as the young do. That is good." Pete came back with his two saddled ponies. "Which one do you want, Cindy?" he asked. "You take the best one," Cindy said anxiously. "There's no choice between 'em. Here," he handed the reins of one pony to Cindy, "you take Sparkle." Granny came with a sack much like the one Ann Simpson had prepared for her husband, and Pete tied it to his saddle bow. He strapped the flag to one side, so that his legs would go over it. Then he embraced his parents. "I'll send for you," he promised. "We know," Granny said calmly. "We'll be waiting," said Gramps. Over at the Simpson wagon, Jed had saddled and packed Sunshine too. Pete tried hard not to make his smile a nervous one. "Guess we might as well start from over there," he suggested. "We'll go with you," Granny said. "Ann may want a woman around." But if Ann Simpson was afraid, she gave no sign of it now. Her husband was going across the border into no one knew what danger, but he was going with a strong and steadfast heart. Tears might come later, but a smile would urge him on. Cindy tied Sparkle to a wagon wheel and looked up and down the line of camps and wagons. There seemed to be twice as many people as there had been before, as though they had sprung from the ground. Everyone with a horse had it saddled, those with wagons had them ready, and there were still a great many who must run on foot. Cindy giggled. There was one man with a high-wheeled bicycle which he evidently intended to ride into Oklahoma. A desperate-looking man approached them and indicated Pete's two remaining ponies. "Those yours?" he asked hoarsely. "That's right," Pete said. "I'll give you fifty dollars to let me ride one today," the man said. "No," said Pete. "I can't take the chance. Ponies will be hard to get for a long while." The man turned appealingly to Jed Simpson. "Are those your mules?" "Yes." "I'll give you fifty dollars to let me ride one in the Run."