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 to bed gloomily , but joy came with the morning . Tom 's foot was so much improved that Kate decided we could go on , though we would have to drive slowly . `` There 's no chance of making Bothwell today , '' she said , `` but at least we shall be getting a little nearer to it . '' `` I do n't believe there is such a place as Bothwell , or any other town , '' I said pessimistically .
`` There 's nothing XXXXX the world but prairie , and we 'll go on driving over it forever , like a couple of female Wandering Jews .
By against as before from in over though to with