Thorne
explained, and then proceeded to explain further, as she walked with her
husband back to the house.
"Well," he summed up, "what is your opinion of the universe up to date? Got
any faith in anything left?"
THE MAID'S PROGRESS
From the great plateau of the Snake River, at a point that is far from any
main station, the stage-road sinks into a hollow which the winds might have
scooped, so constantly do they pounce and delve and circle round the spot.
Down in this pothole, where sand has drifted into the infrequent wheel
tracks, there is a dead stillness while the perpetual land gale is roaring
and troubling above.
One noon at the latter end of summer a wagon carrying four persons, with
camp gear and provision for a self-subsisting trip, jolted down into this
hollow, the horses sweating at a walk as they beat through the heavy sand.
The teamster drew them up and looked hard at the singular, lonely place.
"I don't see any signs of that old corral, do you?" objected the man beside
him. He spoke low, as if to keep his doubts from their neighbors on the
back seat. These, an old, delicate, reverend looking gentleman, and a
veiled woman sitting very erect, were silent, awaiting some decision of
their fellow travelers.
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