“A stranger, I reckon,” he answered; “but no matter, the way is plain enough.  Now, mind what I say.  After you have forded the river, you will strike the military road till you arrive in the prairie; then you ride twenty miles east, till you arrive at Caledonia city; there they will tell you all about it.”

I crossed the river, and, after half an hour’s fruitless endeavours, I could not find the military road, so I forded back, and returned to my host.

“Law!” he answered; “why, the trees are blazed on each side of the road.”

Now, if he had told me that at first, I could not have mistaken, for I had seen the blazing of a bridle-path; but as he had announced a military road, I expected, what it imported, a military road.  I resumed my journey and entered the prairie.  The rays of the sun were very powerful, and, wishing to water my horse, I hailed with delight a miserable hut, sixteen feet square, which I saw at about half a mile from the trail.  In a few minutes I was before the door, and tied my horse to a post, upon which was a square board bearing some kind of hieroglyphics on both sides.  Upon a closer inspection, I saw upon one side “Ice,” and upon the other, “POSTOFF.”

“A Russian, a Swede, or a Norwegian,” thought I, knowing that Iowa contained eight or ten thousand emigrants of these countries.  “Ice—­well, that is a luxury rarely to be found by a traveller in the prairie, but it must be pretty dear; no matter, have some I must.”

I entered the hut, and saw a dirty woman half-naked, and slumbering upon a stool, by the corner of the chimney.

“Any milk?” I inquired, rousing her up.

She looked at me and shook her head; evidently she did not understand me; however, she brought me a stone jug full of whisky, a horn tumbler, and a pitcher of water.

“Can you give my horse a pail of water?” I asked again.

The woman bent down her body, and dragging from under the bed a girl of fourteen, quite naked, and with a skin as tough as that of an alligator, ordered her to the well with a large bucket.  Having thus provided for my beast, I sat upon a stump that served for a chair, and once more addressed my hostess.

“Now, my good woman, let us have the ice.”

“The what?” she answered.

As I could not make her understand what I wanted, I was obliged to drink the whisky with water almost tepid, and my horse being refreshed, I paid my fare and started.

I rode for three hours more, and was confident of having performed twice the distance named by mine host of the morning, and yet the prairie still extended as far as the eye could reach, and I could not perceive the city of Caledonia.  Happily, I discovered a man at a distance riding towards me:  we soon met.

“How far,” said I, “to Caledonia city?”

“Eighteen miles,” answered the traveller.

“Is there no farm on the way?” I rejoined, “for my horse is tired.”