There was little of Kansas City then, except a few warehouses
where freight was landed for Independence, which was the starting
point of the Santa Fe trail.
Claims were being taken so rapidly that we remained to hold ours,
while father returned to Illinois to preach. Two families in one room
made it rather crowded, but we had a comfortable cabin. It contained a
twelve-paned window--the only one in the settlement; cabins usually
had no windows, or very small ones. Mr. May's folks had oiled paper
over a narrow opening, which they closed with a board shutter.
I asked their little girl why they did not have a larger window, and
she said the Indians might get in. But no Indians troubled us.
When father came home, April 30th, we all ran out to meet him. But
mother's quick eye detected something wrong. "Why, I look all right,
don't I?" he asked, smiling. When we reached the house she again
questioned him, and he sat down, rolled up his sleeve, and showed us
his arm, brown with tar, and fuzzy with cotton.
Pages:
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390