ead they could
finish their education or go into business.

Many of these girls came from sheltered homes and settled out in the
wilderness of plains, living alone in little isolated shanties out of
reach of human aid in case of illness or other emergency. They had no
telephones or other means of communication. Some of them had no means of
transportation, walking miles to a neighbor in order to send to town for
a little food or fuel, sometimes carrying buckets of water a mile or two
over the plains. In winter they were marooned for days and nights at a
stretch without a human being to whom they could speak, and nothing but
the bloodcurdling cry of coyotes at night to keep them company.

They tried to prepare themselves for any situation so that they would
neither starve nor freeze; with books and papers to read and the daily
grinding routine of work to be done on every homestead, where each job
required the effort and time of ten in modern surroundings, they managed
to be contented. But it took courage.

In spite of the rigors of the winter, the settlers made merry. Our piano
was hauled all over the Strip for entertainments. Barring storms or
other obstacles, it was brought home the next day, perhaps not quite as
good as when it went, but a piano scuffed or off-tune did not matter
compared to the pleasure Ida Mary had that winter, going to parties and
dancing. I did not always go along; my strength didn't seem to stretch
far enough.

Sometimes a group of homesteaders would drive up to the settlement
about sundown in a big bobsled behind four horses, the sled filled with
hay, heavy blankets and hot bricks. We would shut up shop and the whole
staff would crowd into the sled, Imbert tucking Ida Mary in warm and
snug.

On cold winter evenings, when a gray-white pall encircled the earth like
a mantle of desolation, three or four of the girls were likely to ride
up, each with a bag of cooked food, to spend the night. One never waited
to be invited to a friend's house, but it was a custom of the homestead
country to take along one's own grub or run the risk of going hungry. It
might be the time when the flour barrel was empty. So our guests would
bring a jar of baked beans, a pan of fresh rolls, potato salad or a
dried-apple pie; and possibly a jack rabbit ready baked. Jack rabbit was
the main kind of fresh meat, with grouse in season. We had not as yet
been reduced to eating prairie dog as the Indians did.

"Breaking w