"It isn't for myself I'm asking," he said. "There's a lady here that
wants to ride in a covered wagon, and sit back where she can't see the
water. It makes her dizzy--and scares her awfully; can you take her?"

"If she can ride back there on the bed," said I.

He peeped in, and said that this was the very place for her. She could
lie down and cover up her head and never know she was crossing the river
at all. In a minute, and while it was still twilight, just as the
ferry-boat came to the landing, he returned with the lady. She was
dressed in some brown fabric, and wore a thick veil over her face; but
as she climbed in I saw that she had yellow hair and bright eyes and
lips; and that she was trembling so that her hands shook as she took
hold of the wagon-bow, and her voice quivered as she thanked me, in low
tones. The man with the black beard pressed her hand as he left her. He
offered me a dollar for her passage; but I called his attention to the
fact that it would cost only two shillings more for me to cross with her
than if I went alone, and refused to take more.

"There are a good many rough fellows," said he, "at these ferries, that
make it unpleasant for a lady, sometimes--"

"Not when she's with me," I said.

He looked at me sharply, as if surprised that I was not so green as I
looked--though I was pretty verdant. Anyhow, he said, if I should be
asked if any one was with me, it would save her from being scared if I
would say that I was alone--she was the most timid woman in the world.