Next to the building was a tent with "Poast Ofise" written on it in red paint. At least two hundred people who hoped to get mail stood in a long line outside it. Next was another tent with a sign, "J. C. Summers, Wholesale and Retail Grocer," and next to that a wooden building whose sign proclaimed that it belonged to Caldwell and Hunter, dry-goods merchants. Everybody, including those who stood in various lines, for there was much pushing and shoving, seemed in a great hurry. "What are they all doing?" Alec inquired. "They are," his father said happily, "building Plains City." He called to a man standing beside a building, "Where's the livery stable?" "Straight down!" The man waved his hand down the street. "We'll leave our horses and walk around awhile," Mr. Simpson said. "It's worth seeing." The livery stable, when they finally reached it, was merely a series of posts with ropes stretched between them. There were so many horses, mules, and ponies already tied to the ropes that there couldn't possibly be room for more. But just as they rode up, four horsemen rode away. "Any room?" Mr. Simpson asked the lank, tobacco-chewing man in charge of the livery. "Yup." "How much?" "Fifty cents a head." "That include hay and water?" "Yup." "I looked from the top of a knoll," said Mr. Simpson. "I thought that town sites could be no more than three hundred and twenty acres. Plains City seems almost three times that." "Plains City," the livery man said, "is igzactly three hun'ert an' twenty acres." Mr. Simpson grinned. "Who do you think you're fooling?" "Nobody," the livery man said. He waved a hand southward. "Down thar is South Plains City, an' that's igzactly three hun'ert and twenty acres too." In turn, the man waved his hand toward where East, West, and North Plains City were locating or would be located. "That land should have been homesteaded," said Mr. Simpson. "'Twas," the man said. "Then how did you get it?" "Most of them as staked was glad enough to sell," the man said. "City lots is wuth money. Them as wouldn't sell we reasoned with. They could sell at a fair price, or they could be tarred an' feathered an' rid' out on a rail." "I see," said Mr. Simpson. The man led their mounts away, and they set off on foot to view the wonders of Plains City. There was a big tent with "Plains City Hotel" written across it and a wooden frame with a canvas roof that was evidently Brown's Restaurant. There were all kinds of stores. A man sat on a wooden box behind another box bearing the sign, "J. C. Donnelly, Lawyer." "Need any law work done?" he asked when Jed, Pete, and the youngsters passed. [Illustration: _"Need any law work done?" he asked_] "Nope," said Mr. Simpson. "I'm good at land titles." "Nope," Mr. Simpson said again.