So far as details were concerned, they were her own creation, for she had never seen an ox, a wild Indian, nor a prairie schooner.

Yet, palpitating and real, shimmering in the sun-flashed dust of ten thousand hoofs, she saw pass, from East to West, across a continent, the great hegira of the land-hungry Anglo-Saxon.

It was part and fiber of her.

She had been nursed on its traditions and its facts from the lips of those who had taken part.

Clearly she saw the long wagon-train, the lean, gaunt men who walked before, the youths goading the lowing oxen that fell and were goaded to their feet to fall again.