Cindy, her father, and Pete Brent looked at each other. There were homesteaders on every claim except the one where a youngster had thrown her jacket down. Boomers had honored this sign of ownership. "That's yours!" Cindy cried. "Go stake it!" CHAPTER TEN _Hungry_ Pete, Jed, and Cindy sat together at the edge of the oak grove. Arms clasped around his knees, Pete stared at the horizon. Mr. Simpson used a piece of broken stick to dig interestedly into the rich soil of this new land, and Cindy gazed hungrily at the wagon. "They seem," she said hopefully, "like such nice people." "I'm sure they are," her father said. "And they must have just loads of things in that big wagon." "They must have," said Mr. Simpson. "So if I went over there and sort of--" "Cindy!" her father roared. "Food is given, not asked for!" "I wasn't going to ask for any." "No. You were just going to hint around until they gave you some." "Dang it, Jed," Pete broke in, "we didn't really give 'em a chance to offer us any." "So we didn't." "If all _three_ of us go over," Cindy suggested, "they'll have a chance." Mr. Simpson said reluctantly, "We might find out." Side by side, they walked over to where the newcomers were setting up on the claim accidentally staked by Cindy. The man, who had built a fire with wood carried in from his wagon, did not look tired any more. He looked refreshed and ten years younger. Far from seeming worried, the woman now bloomed like a girl. The four children's eyes were big as saucers. It was a completely happy family. Something that couldn't possibly happen to them had happened. They owned their own farm. The man came to meet the approaching trio. "I was so flustered that I plumb forgot to be civil," he said. "I'm Silas Wentworth." He shook hands with Jed and Pete and bowed to Cindy. "Young lady, we'll never forget you." "It was just luck," Cindy murmured. "Come meet the family," said Silas Wentworth. "This is my Missus, Jean, and these," he indicated the children in their turn, "are Sally, Silas, Sylvia, and Serena. Say hello, children." "Hello," Sally, about eight, said bashfully. The younger children giggled. "Had breakfast?" Silas Wentworth questioned. "Well, now--" Mr. Simpson began. "We ain't got a great store of diffe'nt things," Silas Wentworth seemed a little embarrassed. "Truth is, we're down to beans. But they's lots of them." "Then why'd you tell uth, Pa," Silas, Jr., lisped, "that we'd have to make out with light mealth till you can get thome?" "We've had breakfast," Mr. Simpson said firmly. "Yes, we have," Pete seconded. "Uh-huh," said Cindy. "Silas!" said his father, who had turned red as a glass of crabapple jelly. He looked apologetically at his guests. "Truth is, we are a mite short. But I've got money, seven whole dollars, an' there must be a town where a body can buy vittles an' maybe get work too."