XXIII. AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT 228

XXIV. THE SPIRIT OF THE FRONTIER 245

XXV. THE INQUIRY 254

XXVI. BACKSLIDING 264

XXVII. SIMON PLAYS A PART 270

XXVIII. A CHANGE IN PLAN 277

XXIX. LOUNSBURY'S RETURN 284

XXX. THE TRYST 297

XXXI. BY THE LIGHT OF A MATCH 303

XXXII. THE EVE OF OTHER THINGS 309

XXXIII. THE END OF A DREAM 312

XXXIV. FIRE AND ESCAPE 318

XXXV. THE LAST WARNING 325

XXXVI. SOME UNEXPECTED DISCOVERIES 330

XXXVII. THE FLIGHT TO MURPHY'S THROAT 335

XXXVIII. FRASER HEARS A CALL 342

XXXIX. STANDING AT BAY 345

XL. SOME ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS 351

XLI. TAPS 361

THE PLOW-WOMAN CHAPTER I

IN THE FURROW

The coulee was a long, scarlet gash in the brown level of the Dakota
prairie, for the sumach, dyed by the frosts of the early autumn, covered
its sides like a cloth whose upper folds were thrown far over the brinks
of the winding ravine and, southward, half-way to the new cottonwood
shack of the Lancasters. Near it, a dark band against the flaming shrub,
stretched the plowed strip, narrow, but widening with each slow circuit
of the team as the virgin, grass-grown land was turned by the
mould-board to prepare for the corn-planting of the coming spring.

The sun, just risen, shone coldly upon the plain, and a wind, bearing
with it a hint of raw weather and whirling snow, swept down the Missouri
valley from the north, marshalling in its front hosts of gabbling ducks
and honking geese that were taking noisy flight from a region soon to be
buried and already bleak. Yet with all the chill in the air, Ben and
Betty, the mules, steamed as they toiled to and fro, and lolled out
their tongues with the warmth of their work and the effort of keeping
straight in the furrow; and Dallas, following in their wake with the
reins about her shoulders and the horns of the plow in a steadying
grasp, took off her slouch hat at the turnings to bare he