fit. She might have made perhaps
twenty-four miles under such conditions, had it not been for the
counteracting softness of the teams. Loaded, they would make from ten
to twelve miles daily, which seems intolerably slow in these days of
speed and nerve-wracking restlessness. But with six of the teams
working steadily the outfit would transport upward of thirty tons
twelve miles a day, which represents an enormous amount of provisions
for man and beast.

Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet rode with Hiram. The train had been
traveling perhaps two hours, and it was after eleven o'clock, when
there came a "Who-hoo!" from Jerkline Jo. Hiram and Tweet looked back.

She beckoned with her hand. Both Hiram and Tweet placed fingers on
their breasts inquisitively; then she cupped her hands about her mouth
and called:

"_Hi_-ram!"

"'_Hi_-ram,' huh?" grunted Tweet. "For one hungering second I thought
maybe she wanted me." He grasped his twisted nose and straightened it.
"'Twon't stay," he observed gloomily. "Go on and ride with her, you
big soft-voiced lady killer! I'll stick with Pete, and maybe he'll
learn to love me. What'll I do if they begin to get rambunctious,
Hiram?"

"Don't worry," Hiram returned. "They won't do anything they're not
doing right now. Just let 'em drift right along."

He swung himself to the ground and waited until the girl's wagon came
abreast, then climbed up over a brake-shoe and squeezed himself between
the slats of the tall freight rack with which her wagon was equipped.

The girl stood in the front end of the rack, and such material as the
wagon carried was piled behind her, leaving a little compartment free
of encumbrance in which she might move about. There was no driver's
seat, and therefore quite a little room was hers.

Hiram gazed in utter bewilderment at what he saw. A coal-oil stove was
burning, and on it pots were steaming. There was a tiny
oilcloth-covered table, and on it and under it were pots and pans and
other utensils of the kitchen.

What surprised him more, though, was another lower table before which
stood a collapsible stool. On it were books and papers and a portable
typewriter, with a half-typed sheet on the platen. There were ink and
pens and other articles necessary to an officer or a study. Against
the front end of the wagon rack stood a chest, with its lid closed, and
more cooking utensils were on top of it.

Jerkline Jo smiled at his bewilderment.

"I