Then I went down to my little shack and put on my other clothes.
I remember I'd gone so thin that they hung loose, and my palms were so raw I had hard work handling the buttons, and got my shirt all bloody, for I'd been in the drift forty hours, without sleep and breathing powder smoke, till my knees buckled and wobbled under me.

To this day the smell of stale powder smoke makes a woman of me; but that morning I sang, for I was going for my bride, and the world was brighter than it has ever been for eighteen years.

The little school-house was closed, at which I remembered that the term was over.

I'd been living underground for weeks and lost track of the days, so that I had to count them up on my fingers.

It took me a long time, for I was pretty tired in my head; but when I'd figured it out I went on to where she was boarding.
"The woman of the place came to the door, a Scotch-woman.