hroned she knitted at a stocking of gray yarn.
Seen in the daylight she was young, fresh-skinned, and not uncomely.
Placidity seemed to be the dominating note of her personality. It
found physical expression in the bland parting of her hair, drawn back
from her smooth brow, her large plump hands with their deliberate
movements and dimples where more turbulent souls had knuckles, and her
quiet eyes, which turned upon anyone who addressed her a long
ruminating look before she answered. She had an air of almost oracular
profundity but she was merely in the quiescent state of the woman whose
faculties and strength are concentrated upon the coming child. Her
sister called her Bella and the people in the train addressed her as
Mrs. McMurdo.

Lucy was beside her also knitting a stocking, and the husband, Glen
McMurdo, sat in the front driving, his legs in the rain, his upper half
leaning back under the shelter of the roof. He looked sleepy, gave a
grunt of greeting to Susan, and then lapsed against the saddle propped
behind him, his hat pulled low on his forehead hiding his eyes. In
this position, without moving or evincing any sign of life, he now and
then appeared to be roused to the obligations of his position and
shouted a drowsy "Gee Haw," at the oxen.

He did not interfere with the women and they broke into the talk of
their sex, how they cooked, which of their clothes had worn best, what
was the right way of jerking buffalo meat. And then on to personal
matters: where they came from, what they were at home, whither they
were bound. The two sisters were Scotch girls, had come from Scotland
twenty years ago when Lucy was a baby. Their home was Cooperstown
where Glen was a carpenter. He had heard wonderful stories of
California, how there were no carpenters there and people were flocking
in, so he'd decided to emigrate.

"And once he'd got his mind set on it, he had to start," said his wife.
"Couldn't wait for anything but must be off then and there. That's the
way men are."

"It's a hard trip for you," said Susan, wondering at Mrs. McMurdo's
serenity.

"Well, I suppose it is," said Bella, as if she did not really think it
was, but was too lazy to disagree. "I hope I'll last till we get to
Fort Bridger."

"What's at Fort Bridger?"

"It's a big place with lots of trains coming and going and there'll
probably be a doctor among them. And they say it's a good place for
the animals--plenty of grass--so it'