Connie Morgan in the cattle country

Chapter I

WASECHE BILL TELLS A STORY

"This little cabin sure looks good to me," smiled Connie Morgan on the evening of his hasty return from the Mackenzie River country, as he and Waseche Bill settled themselves comfortably in front of the little stove. "No matter where I am, or what I'm doing, I always think of this little cabin on Ten Bow. It makes a fellow feel good just to know it's here, and you're here, and I can come back any time I want to." The boy paused and glanced affectionately at his big partner, who was smiling behind the bowl of his black pipe. "It isn't that I don't like the trail," he added quickly, "because I do—and the longer the trail, the better I like it. And I like to have something to do that takes me into places I never have been before—and I like to tackle jobs I have never tackled before—just to see if I can do them. But, all the same, I always want to know that this cabin is right here just as it was when we built it. I'll tell you what it is—it's home. A fellow likes to know he's got a home, no matter where the trail takes him—and this is home for us. And, say, Waseche, you won't ever tear it down while I'm away somewhere, will you? I'd rather have it just the way it is than have the biggest house in the world."