Although Wilfred had stayed close to his farm,near Oklahoma City,he had kept alive to the rush and swing of the western life;and now that he had leisure to ride with Mizzoo among the bustling camps,and view the giant strides made from day to day by the smallest towns,he was more than ever filled with the exultation of one who takes part in world-movements.He began to view the hurrying crowds that overran the sidewalks,with a sense of close kinship--these people came from all points of the Union,but they were his people.A year ago,six months ago,they might have been New Yorkers,Californians,Oregonians,but now all were westerners like himself,and though they believed themselves Texans the name made as little difference as that between Red Riverand Prairie Dog Fork--in spirit,they were Oklahomans.
If Wilfred had not been a simple visitor,he would have had no time for thought;but now he could look on the life of which he had for a few years been a part,and study it as related to the future.It was as if his boyhood and youth had not been passed in Chicago--the West had blotted out the past as it ever does with relentless hand,--and every thought-channel led toward the light of the future.Lahoma's letter had revived the picture of other days,of another existence,without rousing one wish to return.
The only desire it had stirred in his breast was that of seeing Lahoma again,of taking her by the hand to lead her,not back to the old civilization,but to the new.As he lay awake at night in the log cabin that had been Lahoma's,his brain for a long time every night was busy with thoughts of that new civilization,and he was stirred with ambition to take part,so that when single statehood or double statehood was achieved,he would be a recognized factor in its transformation from a loosely-bound territory.
He began to think,too,of moving his residence to Oklahoma City,where he would be closer to men of affairs--great men of great enterprises.His farm,of course,would be managed under his superintendence--unless Oklahoma City should be generous enough to spread out and surround it,and lap it up,town-lot after town-lot,till not a red clod was left....And if a girl like Lahoma--for surely she had not changed!--if she,little Lahoma....And the longing grew on him to see Annabel Sellimer and Lahoma together,that he might study the girl he had once loved with the girl he might love tomorrow.He almost made up his mind to take a brief trip to Chicago,on quitting the cove;perhaps there would be something in Lahoma's next letter to force a decision.
Two weeks passed,but Wilfred did not consider the time lost;there were letters almost daily,by coach,from Lahoma,telling of her adventures in the great world--the house-party had been delayed on account of Mrs.Sellimer's illness,but was to take place immediately--so said the last letter before the arrival of the news that changed the course of events at the cove.As yet,Lahoma had not met Mr.Gledware,but the fame of his riches and his luxurious home had both increased her curiosity to see him,and her conviction that Mr.Edgerton Compton stood no chance with Annabel.She had discovered,too,that Edgerton Compton was a brother of the Wilfred Compton who had visited them one day in the cove--Wilfred read the letter with great attention,but there was no further reference to himself.
Brick Willock rode over to Mangum nearly every afternoon to hear from Lahoma,but it happened that on the day of the great news,neither he nor Bill had returned from a certain hunting expedition in time for the stage,so Wilfred went for the mail.There was only one letter,addressed to
Mr.B.Willock,and it seemed strangely thin.The young man wondered during all his ten-mile return-trip if Lahoma had fallen ill;and after reaching the log cabin,he kept looking at the slim missive,and turning it over,with vague uneasiness.
Brick and Bill had ridden far,and it was dusk before they reached home with a deer slung over one of the horses.
They're getting scarcer every year,complained Bill,as he climbed stiffly to the ground;I guess they'll finally go the way of the buffalo.
Get a letter?asked Brick,hurrying forward.Huh!THAT it?She is sure getting fashionable!I reckon when she's plumb civilized,she won't write nothing!
He took the long white envelope and squinted at it inquisitively.
Well,why don't you open 'er?snapped Bill.Afraid you'll spring a trap and get caught?
Ain't much here,replied Brick slowly,and I'm making it last.Huh!Nothing is a-lasting when it hasn't been begun,retorted Bill crossly.See what the little girl says.
I'm afraid she's sick,observed Wilfred,eying the envelope with something like Bill's irritable impatience.
