fled by the fact that that we were
driving over a grassy road and they had not heard us until we were on
them. We were sorry indeed to have killed the beautiful little brown
creatures. All through California and Colorado we had seen them, as they
were constantly flying up in front of the machine and running off to
cover. All along, the killdeer were darting about, calling loudly and
piercingly.

Beyond North Platte we came upon a country house which had been
pre-empted by a jolly house party of girls from town. They had put out
some facetious signs: "Fried Chicken Wanted" and "Votes for Women." We
stopped to call upon them and told them of our trip across the country,
while they insisted upon serving us with cake and lemonade.

Late in the day we passed some groups of movers, their horses and cattle
with them. We saw glorious fields of corn and of alfalfa, and we saw
fields dotted with little mounds or cocks of wheat and of millet. Four
miles before coming into Kearney, we passed the famous sign which marks
the distance half-way between San Francisco and Boston. We had seen a
print of this sign, pointing 1,733 miles West to Frisco and East 1,733
miles to Boston, on the cover of our Lincoln Highway guide, issued by
the Packard Motor Car Company. We stopped now to take a photograph of
it. A woman living in a farmhouse across the road was much interested in
our halt. She said that almost every motor party passing stopped to
photograph the sign.

We heard from her of two young women who were walking from coast to
coast, enjoying the country and its adventures. Somehow we missed them
in making the detour from Laramie to Denver. We had seen their
photographs on postcards which they were selling to help meet their
expenses. They were sisters, and looked very striking and romantic in
their walking dress. They wore broad-brimmed hats, loose blouses with
rolling collars, and wide trousers, tucked into high laced boots such as
engineers wear. Each carried a small revolver at her belt. We were sorry
to have missed seeing them against the picturesque background of the
Wyoming plains.

At Kearney we had supper at "Jack's Place," and went on in the twilight
to Minden, where we proposed stopping at "The Humphrey." We passed
through long fields of corn and over lonely rolling prairies. The
cornfields with their rows of tasseled stalks were like the dark, silent
ranks of a waiting army, caped and hooded, standing motionless until
ma