Chapter II

           UnderneaththeLongTrestlewhereBrodersonCreekcutthelineoftherailroadandtheUpperRoad,thegroundwaslowandcoveredwithasecondgrowthofgreygreenwillows.Alongthebordersofthecreekwereoccasionalmarshyspots,andnowandthenHilmaTreecameheretogatherwater-cresses,whichshemadeintosalads.

           Theplacewaspicturesque,secluded,anoasisofgreenshadeinallthelimitless,flatmonotonyofthesurroundingwheatlands.Thecreekhaderodeddeepintothelittlegully,andnomatterhowhotitwasonthebaking,shimmeringlevelsoftheranchesabove,downhereonealwaysfoundone’sselfenvelopedinanodorous,moistcoolness.Fromtimetotime,theincessantmurmurofthecreek,pouringoverandaroundthelargerstones,wasinterruptedbythethunderoftrainsroaringoutuponthetrestleoverhead,passingonwiththefuriousgallopoftheirhundredsofironwheels,leavingintheairataintofhotoil,acridsmoke,andreekofescapingsteam.

           Onacertainafternoon,inthespringoftheyear,HilmawasreturningtoQuienSabefromHooven’sbythetrailthatledfromLosMuertostoAnnixter’sranchhouses,underthetrestle.ShehadspenttheafternoonwithMinnaHooven,who,forthetimebeing,waskeptindoorsbecauseofawrenchedankle.AsHilmadescendedintothegravelflatsandthicketsofwillowsunderneaththetrestle,shedecidedthatshewouldgathersomecressesforhersupperthatnight.