A little grain of pity for her loss of prestige was mingling with our
subconscious feeling of a need for her help in the day of the giant, if
not in the reign of the princess.

We were trudging along behind our wagon toward the camping-place for the
night, which lay beyond the crossing of the stream. We had lived much
out of doors at Fort Leavenworth, but the real out of doors of this
journey was telling on us already in our sturdy, up-leaping strength, to
match each new hardship. We ate like wolves, slept like dead things, and
forgot what it meant to be tired. And as our muscles hardened our minds
expanded. We were no longer little children. Youth had set its seal upon
us on the day when our company had started out from Independence toward
the great plains of the Middle West. Little care had we for the
responsibility and perils of such a journey; and because our thoughts
were buoyant our bodies were vigorous.

Our camp that night was under wide-spreading elm-trees whose roots
struck deep in the deep black loam. After supper Mat and Beverly went
down to fish in the muddy creek. Fishing was Beverly's sport and solace
everywhere. I was to follow them as soon as I had finished my little
chores. The men were scattered about the valley and the camp was
deserted. Something in the woodsy greenness of the quiet spot made it
seem like home to me--the log house among the elms and cottonwoods at
the fort. As I finished my task I wondered how a big, fine house such as
I had seen in pictures would look nestled among these beautiful trees. I
wanted a home here some day, a real home. It was such a pleasant place
even in its loneliness.

To the west the ground sloped up gently toward the horizon-line,