No one—not the husband so close at her side, not the children about whom the chords of her heart were knit—knew what this journey into the wilderness was costing her.
The lonely little mound back there on the prairies was seldom out of her mind, and the homesick longing for her home and her mothers and sisters so far away in the East, was sometimes almost more than she could bear.
As the thoughts of her lost baby, and all that she had left behind back there in that sweet and verdant country crossed her mind, hot tears rushed into her eyes. She blinked them resolutely away. She thought at first as she looked up that it was the tears that blinded her. Then as she wiped them away she drew a little gasping breath and looked—and looked again. At first her heart gave a great leap, then sank down drearily as she thought of the experience of the previous afternoon.
With a determined effort she turned her head away. Then when the torture of suspense would be no longer borne, she looked back.
Away on the distant western horizon there was a bluish haze.
She laid her hand very gently on her husband's arm.
"Joshua," she whispered, "I hate to rouse thee, but—look off there to the west; what is it we see? Is it—is it another mirage? It looks as if there were trees there. I have been looking and looking, but I was afraid to speak. I hated to awaken your hopes—it is so hard——"
The weary man roused himself. With hands clasped above his eyes he gazed off over the prairies.
After a long interval he said, '"I think—I believe—it does look like timber! Of course it is a long way off yet—but——"
His voice ceased, as he fixed his whole attention on the horizon.