Page:The Cabin at the Trail's End.djvu/19

strips of cloth about her feet. Stockings had long since given way before the alkali dust and the sharp stones of the plains and mountain passes.

“To think,” she muttered, “that I should ever be dirty and ragged, with no soap to wash a change of clothing for the family, even if they had the change. I do hope John can find me a pair of Indian moccasins soon. A barefooted woman is a disgrace. We're all in the same fix, though, so perhaps ’twon’t matter.”

She turned abruptly to find work, always her panacea for black fears, especially hard work accompanied by a vigorous hymn tune. She began to sing resolutely, “How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord.”

Uncle Adzi limped into the clearing just as she climbed down from the wagon after inspecting supplies. The Bainbridge family had reached its destination at two that afternoon. The first duty of a housewife is to take careful stock and lay plans for the new home.

In spite of his rheumatism Uncle Adzi moved briskly for his sixty-odd years. He was a wizened, cricket-like little man. A slow smile crinkled his tanned leathery countenance as he handed his niece two ruffed grouse that he had slung over the gun on his shoulder.

At Martha’s exclamation of delight he drawled: “Yes, them birds be natives hereabouts. Never seed their kind before. They’re twicet the size o’ quail, an’ look at the meat onto the breasts o’ ‘em. If yer oncle Adzi’s rheumatiz jist lets him git inter the