By the first of November the wonder had gone out of the life of the
settlers. One by one the novelties and beauties of the plain had passed
away or grown familiar. The plover and blackbird fell silent. The
prairie-chicken's piping cry ceased as the flocks grew toward maturity,
and the lark and cricket alone possessed the russet plain, which seemed
to snap and crackle in the midnight frost, and to wither away in the
bright midday sun.
Many of the squatters by this time had spent their last dollar, and
there was little work for them to do. Each man, like his neighbor, was
waiting to "prove up." They had all lived on canned beans and crackers
since March, and they now faced three months more of this fare. Some of
them had no fuel, and winter was rapidly approaching.
The vast, treeless level, so alluring in May and June, had become an
oppressive weight to those most sensitive to the weather, and as the air
grew chill and the skies overcast, the women turned with apprehensive
faces to the untracked northwest, out of which the winds swept
pitilessly cold and keen.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57