Not another question would she ask of Echo, Idaho, which
was flatter and more insipid than the drinking water in the tin "cooler"
in the waiting room. The station agent stood with his hands on his hips
and watched her cross the track and start down the road, pardonably
astonished to see a young woman walk down a road that led only to the
hills twenty miles away, carrying her luggage exactly as if her trip was
a matter of a block or two at most.
The bag was rather heavy and as she went on it became heavier. She meant
to carry it slung across her shoulder on a stick as soon as she was well
away from the prying eyes of Echo's inhabitants. Later, if she felt
tired, she could easily hide it behind a bush along the road and send
one of her father's cowboys after it. The road was very dusty and
carried the wind-blown traces of automobile tires. Some one would surely
overtake her and give her a ride before she walked very far.
For the first half hour she believed that she was walking on level
ground, but when she looked back there was no sign of any town behind
her. Echo had disappeared as completely as if it had been swallowed.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38