“She’s grown, powerful. Tall an’ straight as an Indian, an’ fair as a snowflake. Such hair! I don’t wonder she wears it that way, though I wouldn’t humor her by lettin’ on. I’ve heard she did it to please her ‘tribe’ an’ the old minister. Well, there’s always plenty of fools. They’re a crop ’at never fails.”
The Sun Maid reappeared. She had not stopped to change her white gown, but she brought a pair of snow-shoes, and carried three or four short planks across her strong, firm shoulder.
“My sake! Ain’t you tough! I couldn’t lift one them planks, rugged as I call myself, let alone four. But—snow-shoes in the springtime?”
“Yes. I’ve learned a way for myself of helping the many who get mired out here. See how quickly I can set you free.”
Putting on the shoes, the girl walked straight over the mud, and throwing down the planks before the animals, encouraged them to help themselves.
“What are their names? Jim and Pete? Come on, my poor beasts; and, once clear, you shall have a fine rest and feed.”
“Shucks! There! Go on! Giddap! Gee! Haw!”
There followed a time of suspense, but at last the oxen gained a little advance, when Kitty promptly moved the planks forward, and in due time the wagon rolled out upon a firmer spot.
“Well, Kitty girl, you may not have sense, but you’ve got what’s better—that’s gumption. And that’s Chicago, is it?”
“Yes. I hope you like it.”