It 's like magic . '' I did not believe a chinook or anything else could dry up that trail by noon sufficiently for us to travel on . But it did . As Kate said , it seemed like magic . By one o'clock we were on our way again , the chinook blowing merrily against our faces . It was a wind that blew straight from the heart of the wilderness and had in it all the potent lure of the wild . The yellow prairie laughed and glistened in the sun . We made twenty-five miles that afternoon and , as we were again fortunate enough to find a bluff of dead poplar near which to camp , we built a royal camp-fire which sent its flaming light far and wide over the dark prairie . We were in jubilant spirits . If the next day were fine and nothing dreadful happened to us , we would reach Bothwell before night . But our ill luck was not yet at an end . The next morning was beautiful . The sun shone warm and bright ; the chinook blew balmily and alluringly ; the trail stretched before us dry and level . But we sat moodily before our tent , not even having sufficient heart to play checkers . Tom had gone lame -- so lame that there was no use in thinking of trying to travel with him . Kate could not tell what was the matter . `` There is no injury that I can see , '' she said . `` He must have sprained his foot somehow . '' Wait we did , with all the patience we could command . But the day was long and wearisome , and at night Tom 's foot did not seem a bit better .
We went XXXXX bed gloomily , but joy came with the morning .
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