His long nose wiggled at the smells of frizzling bacon and heating java, but the fire was low, and he wanted to waste no time. He furled the slashed sides of the canvas tarpaulins, leaving the ribs and wagon open.

He looked thoughtfully at his wife's trunk, holding her meager treasures. He said hesitantly, ``Hettie, I don't figure your things got wet too much. That's a good trunk. If you want to get them aired.''

She said without turning her head, ``After that rain beating in atop the dust, there isn't a thing that wonn't be streaked.''

He drew a long breath and opened the trunk and hung out her clothes and spoilables upon the wagon ribs.