with what money they had left, were showing each other new boots and
gloves and blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking
raw alcohol, tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to
fortify one effectually against the cold, and they smacked their
lips after each pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every
other noise in the place, and the overheated store sounded of
their spirited language as it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens,
and kerosene.

Carl came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with
a brass handle. "Come," he said, "I've fed and watered your team,
and the wagon is ready." He carried Emil out and tucked him down
in the straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy
sleepy, but he still clung to his kitten.

"You were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl.
When I get big I'll climb and get little boys' kittens for them,"
he murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill,
Emil and his cat were both fast asleep.

Although it was only four o'clock, the winter day was fading. The
road led southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that
glimmered in the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young
faces that were turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl,
who seemed to be looking with such anguished perplexity into the
future; upon the sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be
looking into the past. The little town behind them had vanished as
if it had never been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie,
and the stern frozen country received them into its bosom. The
homesteads were few and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt