nder of the wind from the wild, mysterious green sea
to the west! With the change and sheen of the prairie, incessant and
magical life was made marvellous and the winter put far away.

Merry parties drove here and there visiting. Formalities counted for
little, and yet with all this freedom of intercourse, this close
companionship, no one pointed the finger of gossip toward any woman. The
girls in their one-room huts received calls from their bachelor
neighbors with the confidence that comes from purity of purpose, both
felt and understood. Life was strangely idyllic during these spring
days. Envy and hate and suspicion seemed exorcised from the world.

III

JUNE

The centre of the social life was Bailey's store. There stood the
post-office, which connected the settlers with the world they had left
behind. There they assembled each day when the flag ran up the long pole
which stood before the door as a signal for the mail. On the treeless,
shrubless prairie one could see the flag miles away, as it rose like a
faint fleck of pink against the green of the prairie beyond or the blue
sky above.

Twice a week Rivers drove out with supplies. These were the eventful
days of the week, and it was significant to observe with what tasteful
care the young women thought it proper to dress on this day. Hats,
dainty and fresh, cool muslins, spotless cuffs, ribbons. They came out
of their cabins with all the little airs and graces of their Eastern
homes. Bailey shared their good opinion, but he was always silent and a
little timid in their presence, and usually disappeared as soon as
Rivers came. "The social responsibilities belong to you, partner," he
was accustomed to say.

As the summer wore on, the number of those pathetically eager for
letters increased. The sun-bright plain, the beautiful, almost cloudless
sky, and the ever-flooding light wore upon them. They began to recall
wistfully the cool streams of New England, the wooded slopes of
Wisconsin, the comfortable homesteads and meadows of Illinois, and they
came for their mail with shining eyes--and when forced to say "Nothing
to-day," Bailey always suffered a keen pang of sympathetic pain.

He himself watched the eastern horizon, incessantly and unconsciously,
hours before the wagon was due, and, when it came in sight at last, ran
his flag up along its mast joyously.

It was a great pleasure to him to sit and talk with his partner, and he
looked forward to his