As I drove on I saw that the woman had thrown off the quilt, and was
peeping out at the opening in the cover at the back, watching the
black-bearded and the thin man moving off in a group of fellows, one of
whom held the black-bearded man by the arm a good deal as a deputy
sheriff might have done.

The roads leading west out of Dubuque were horrible, then, being steep
stony trails coming down the hollows and washed like watercourses at
every rain. Teams were stalled, sometimes three and four span of animals
were used to get one load to the top, and we were a good deal delayed. I
was so busy trying to keep from upsetting when I drove around stalled
outfits and abandoned wagons, and so occupied in finding places where I
might stop and breathe my team, that I paid little attention to my
queer-acting passenger; but once when we were standing I noticed that
she was covered up again, and seemed to be crying. As we topped the
bluffs, and drew out into the open, she sat up and began to rearrange
her hair. After a few miles, we reached a point from which I could see
the Iowa prairie sweeping away as far as the eye could see. I drew out
by the roadside to look at it, as a man appraises one with whom he must
live--as a friend or an enemy.

I shall never forget the sight. It was like a great green sea. The old
growth had been burned the fall before, and the spring grass scarcely
concealed the brown sod on the uplands; but all the swales were coated
thick with an emerald growth full-bite high, and in the deeper, wetter
hollows grew cowslips, already showing their glossy, golden flowers. The
hillsides were thick with the woolly possblummies[5] in their furry
spring coats protecting them against the frost and chill, showing
purple-violet on the outside of a cup filled with golden stamens, the