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Updated: June 27, 2025
In the still air, after the morning breeze had been burnt out, the heat from the engine was a torment about her feet; and if there was another car ahead, the trail of dust sifted into her throat. Unless there was traffic to keep her awake, she nodded at the wheel; she was merely a part of a machine that ran on without seeming to make any impression on the prairie's endlessness.
After the rain ceased, suddenly, a fierce red light streamed along the saturated grass from the huge sinking sun. Harding, with Gardner's help, brought his pile of wood out of the tent, and soon made a fire; and it was getting dark, though a band of transcendental green still burned upon the prairie's western edge, when they finished supper and, sitting round the fire, took out their pipes.
These things don't signify a cent with us so they handle cattle right, and are ready to push lead into any bunch of rustlers lyin' around. Guess it's environment makes us that way. The prairie's so mighty wide it helps us folks to get wide." Evie was watching the play of the girl's expressive eyes. "I wonder if you're right." "Mostly, I guess." "Mostly?" Nan nodded.
The breeze was not so fresh as usual, and a bank of dark clouds rolled up above the prairie's edge. They looked solid and their rounded masses shone an oily black, and she wondered whether they promised one of the thunder-storms that often broke upon the plains on summer afternoons. She would have welcomed the savage downpour, even if it had spoiled her clothes.
The music of her guitar was indescribably sweet, there in the little oasis of light in the prairie's desert of darkness, and for a time the men sat silently, with their hands clasped about their knees, enjoying it. Then she struck into a rollicking cow-boy song, and they joined in shouting it out.
"I know. You just meant it. Go on. Be good for my soul. Isn't it funny: here we all are me trying to be good for Gopher Prairie's soul, and Gopher Prairie trying to be good for my soul. What are my other sins?" "Oh, there's plenty of them. You see, these things really are coming! The Thanatopsis is getting somewhere.
"The prairie's on fire, Monsieur! The Sioux have put burnt stick in dry grass! The wind it blow it come hard fast fast this way!" and all four Indians reined up their horses as if they would turn. "Coward Indians," I cried. "Go on! Who's put off the trail by the fire of a fool Sioux? Get through the fire before it grows big, or it will catch you all and burn you to a crisp."
They had a fair start, but the open prairie was ahead of them, and there was no chance to hide. Riding must do all, for their pursuers were in full cry. For an hour they rode hard. They could see their hunters not very far in the rear. Suddenly Pierre started and sniffed the air. "The prairie's on fire," he said exultingly, defiantly.
"My dear, I sometimes fancy I am a hypercritical old fogy!" he said, and sighed a little, while once more the anxious look crept into his face. "Just now I wish devoutly I was a better business man." Nothing more was said for a little, and Miss Barrington watched the crimson sunset burn out low down on the prairie's western rim.
Slowly she returned by the youth's side, and drooped her head, listening to the wild mountain adventures he was telling the chase of the elk, the antelope, and the wild buffalo; the hazardous ride through the wild prairies, expanding away in the distance to kiss the horizon; the stealthy wiles of the revengeful savage; the fierce fight of savage men; the race for very life, when the foe followed; and the bivouac upon the prairie's breast, with the weary horse sleeping and resting by his side.
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