IT was long after noon in the far, big, white Northwest. Day was on the wing. Christmas Eve splendidly impended—thank God for unspoiled childish faith and joys of children everywhere! Christmas Eve was fairly within view and welcoming hail, at last, in the thickening eastern shadows. Long Day at its close. Day in a perturbation of blessed…
“What you want to and can.” He sat down again and turned toward me. “It’s all open. There’s a state to be made, and there’s a free hand for the fashioner. Half the available land hasn’t been claimed now, and there’s a new treaty afoot that’ll send the Chocktaws west of the river to give the state a vast new territory.” He clenched a hand. “That country must and will be settled, and it’s better that it be done by Southerners.”
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