ar
ahead there was a family from 'across the water' whose destination was
the same as ours.

'They can't any of them speak English, except one little girl, and all
she can say is "We go Black Hawk, Nebraska." She's not much older than
you, twelve or thirteen, maybe, and she's as bright as a new dollar.
Don't you want to go ahead and see her, Jimmy? She's got the pretty
brown eyes, too!'

This last remark made me bashful, and I shook my head and settled down
to 'Jesse James.' Jake nodded at me approvingly and said you were likely
to get diseases from foreigners.

I do not remember crossing the Missouri River, or anything about the
long day's journey through Nebraska. Probably by that time I had crossed
so many rivers that I was dull to them. The only thing very noticeable
about Nebraska was that it was still, all day long, Nebraska.

I had been sleeping, curled up in a red plush seat, for a long while
when we reached Black Hawk. Jake roused me and took me by the hand. We
stumbled down from the train to a wooden siding, where men were running
about with lanterns. I couldn't see any town, or even distant lights; we
were surrounded by utter darkness. The engine was panting heavily after
its long run. In the red glow from the fire-box, a group of people stood
huddled together on the platform, encumbered by bundles and boxes. I
knew this must be the immigrant family the conductor had told us about.
The woman wore a fringed shawl tied over her head, and she carried a
little tin trunk in her arms, hugging it as if it were a baby. There
was an old man, tall and stooped. Two half-grown boys and a girl stood
holding oilcloth bundles, and a little girl clung to her mother's
skirts. Presently a man with a lantern approached them and began
to talk, shouting and exclaiming. I pricked up my ears, for it was
positively the first time I had ever heard a foreign tongue.

Another lantern came along. A bantering voice called out: 'Hello, are
you Mr. Burden's folks? If you are, it's me you're looking for. I'm
Otto Fuchs. I'm Mr. Burden's hired man, and I'm to drive you out. Hello,
Jimmy, ain't you scared to come so far west?'

I looked up with interest at the new face in the lantern-light. He might
have stepped out of the pages of 'Jesse James.' He wore a sombrero
hat, with a wide leather band and a bright buckle, and the ends of his
moustache were twisted up stiffly, like little horns. He looked lively
and ferocious, I thought, and a