We played.

We bet each other great sums of money as to whether or not the rain-scud coming up in the west would pass over us, or miss us, or whether or not the shadow of a certain cloud would pass to the right or the left.

People with horse teams who were all the time passing us often heard us laughing, and looked at us and smiled, waving their hands, as Virginia would cry out, "I won that time!" or "You drove slow, just to beat me!" or "Well, I lost, but you owe me twenty-five thousand dollars yet!" Once an outfit with roan horses and a light wagon stopped and hailed us.
The woman, sitting by her husband, had been pointing at us and talking to him.
"Right purty day," he said.
"Most of the time," I answered; for it had just sloshed a few barrels of water from one of those flying clouds and forced us to cover ourselves up.
"Where's your folks ?" he asked.
"We ain't too old to travel alone," I replied; "but we'll catch up with the young folks at Waterloo!" He laughed and whipped up his team.
"Go it while you're young!" he shouted as he went out of hearing.
We were rather an unusual couple, as any one could see; though most people doubtless supposed that there were others of our party riding back under the cover.

Virginia had not mentioned Buckner Gowdy since we camped in the Grove of Destiny; and not once had she looked with her old look of terror at an approaching or overtaking team, or scuttled back into the load to keep from being seen.

I guess she had come to believe in the sufficiency of my protection.
2 Waterloo was a town of seven or eight years of age--a little straggling village on the Red Cedar River, as it was then called, building its future on the growth of the country and the water-power of the stream.
It was crowded with seekers after "country," and its land dealers and bankers were looking for customers.