by an isolated
shack or a lonely traveler by horse or wagon, but in the main a vast
sun-baked dead sea of gentle, silent undulations extending, brownish,
clear to the horizons. The only refreshing sights were the Platte River,
flowing blue and yellow among sand-bars and islands, and the side streams
that we passed. Close at hand the principal tokens of life were the little
flag stations, and the tremendous freight trains side-tracked to give us
the right of way. The widely separated hamlets where we impatiently
stopped were the oases in the desert.

In the sunset we halted at the supper station, named Grand Island. My
seat neighbor finished her lunch box, and I returned well fortified by
another excellent meal at the not exorbitant price, one dollar and a
quarter. There had been buffalo meat--a poor apology, to my notion, for
good beef. Antelope steak, on the contrary, was of far finer flavor than
the best mutton.

At Grand Island a number of wretched native Indians drew my attention, for
the time being, from quest of My Lady of the Blue Eyes. However, she was
still escorted by the conductor, who in his brass buttons and officious
air began to irritate me. Such a persistent squire of dames rather
overstepped the duties of his position. Confound the fellow! He surely
would come to the end of his run and his rope before we went much
farther.

"Now, young man, if you get shet of your foolishness and decide to try
North Platte instead of some fly-by-night town on west," my seat companion
addressed, "you jest follow me when I leave. We get to North Platte after
plumb dark, and you hang onto my skirts right up town, till I land you in
a good place. For if you don't, you're liable to be skinned alive."

"If I decide upon North Platte I certainly will take advantage of your
kindness," I evaded. Forsooth, she had a mind to kidnap me!

"Now you're talkin' sensible," she approved. "My sakes alive! Benton!" And
she sniffed. "Why, in Benton they'll snatch you bald-headed 'fore you've
been there an hour."

She composed herself for another nap.

"If that pesky brakeman don't remember to wake me, you give me a poke with
your elbow. I wouldn't be carried beyond North Platte for love or money."

She gurgled, she snored. The sunset was fading from pink to gold--a gold
like somebody's hair; and from gold to lemon which tinted all the prairie
and made it beautiful. Pursuing the sunset we steadily rumbled westward
through the immens