I drove in between scattered burr oaks like those of the Wisconsin oak openings, and stopped my cattle in an open space densely sheltered by thickets of crabapple, plum and black-haw, and canopied by two spreading elms.

Virginia started up, ran to the front of the wagon and looked about.
"Where are we ?" she asked.
"This is our hiding-place," I replied.
"But that man--won't he follow our tracks ?" "We didn't leave any tracks," I said.
"How could we come without leaving tracks ?" she queried, standing close to me and looking up into my face.
"Did you notice," said I, "that for miles we drove in the water--back there on the prairie after the rain ?" "Yes." "We drove in the water when we left the road, and we left no tracks.

Not even an Indian could track us.

We can't be tracked.

We've lost Gowdy--forever." I thought at first that she was going to throw her arms about my neck; but instead she took both my hands and pressed them in a long clasp.