Let me out, if you won't stop."
I whoaed up and she made as if to climb out.
"He may not get out of Dubuque to-day," I said. "He said so. And for you
to wait here alone, with all these movers going by, and with no place to
stay to-night will be a pretty pokerish thing to do."
Finally we agreed that I should drive on to water and timber, unless
the road should fork; in which case we were to wait at the forks no
matter what sort of camp it might be.
The Ridge Road followed pretty closely the route afterward taken by the
Illinois Central Railroad; but the railroad takes the easiest grades,
while the Ridge Road kept to the high ground; so that at some places it
lay a long way north or south of the railway route on which trains were
running as far as Manchester within about two years. It veered off
toward the head waters of White Water Creek on that first day's journey;
and near a new farm, where they kept a tavern, we stopped because there
was water in the well, and hay and firewood for sale. It was still
early. The yellow-haired woman, whose name I did not know, alighted, and
when I found that they would keep her for the night, went toward the
farm-house without thanking me--but she was too much worried about
something to think of that, I guess; but she turned and came back.
"Which way is Monterey Centre?" she asked.
"Away off to the westward," I answered.
"Is it far?"
"A long ways," I said.
"Is it on this awful prairie?" she inquired.
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