“I’ll have to tell the ferryman,” I said.

“Will you?” he asked.  “Why?”

“I’d be cheating him if I didn’t,” I answered.

“All right,” he said, as if provoked at me, “but don’t tell any one else.”

“I ain’t very good at lying,” I replied.

He said for me to do the best I could for the lady, and hurried off.  In the meantime, the lady had crept back on my straw-bed, and pulled the quilts completely over her.  She piled pillows on one side of her, and stirred the straw up on the other, so that when she lay down the bed was as smooth as if nobody was in it.  It looked as it might if a heedless boy had crawled out of it after a night’s sleep, and carelessly thrown the coverlet back over it.  I could hardly believe I had a passenger.  When I was asked for the ferriage, I paid for two, and the ferryman asked where the other was.

“Back in the bed,” I said.

He looked back, and said, “Well, I owe you something for your honesty.  I never’d have seen him.  Sick?”

“Not very,” said I.  “Don’t like the water.”

“Some are that way,” he returned, and went on collecting fares.

As we drove up from the landing, through the rutted streets of the old mining and Indian-trading town, the black-bearded man came to me as we stopped, held back by a jam of covered wagons—­a wonderful sight, even to me—­and as if talking to me, said to the woman, “You’d better ride on through town;” and then to me, “Are you going on through?”

“I’ve got to buy some supplies,” said I; “but I’ve nothing to stop me but that.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said hurriedly, and looking about as if expecting some danger, “and I’ll buy it for you and bring it on.  Which way are you going?”

“West into Iowa,” I answered.

“Go on,” said he, “and I’ll make it right with you.  Camp somewhere west of town.  I’ll come along to-night or to-morrow.  I’ll make it right with you.”

“I don’t see through this,” I said, with my usual indecision as to doing something I did not understand.  “I thought I’d look around Dubuque a little.”

“For God’s sake,” said the woman from the bed, “take me on—­take me on!”

Her tones were so pleading, she seemed in such an agony of terror, that I suddenly made up my mind in her favor.  Surely there would be no harm in carrying her on as she wished.

“All right,” I said to her, but looking at him, “I’ll take you on!  You can count on me.”  And then to him, “I’ll drive on until I find a good camping-place late this afternoon.  You’ll have to find us the best way you can.”