Mollie sighed and caught the baby in her arms tighter, so that for a moment the infant stirred restlessly in its sleep. She, too, had once known dreams of the fairy prince who was to come riding gallantly into her life and to carry her irresistibly into the Land of Romance.
From the tent barroom where her husband had gone came the words of a drunken chorus:
“Exciting times all round the town,
Glory, Glory to Washoe,
Stocks are up and stocks are down,
Glory, Glory to Washoe.
Washoe! Washoe!
Bound for the land of Washoe,
And I own three feet
In the ‘Old Dead Beat,’