Excerpt from The Jay-Hawkers: A Story of Free Soil and Border Ruffian Days
A hazy autumn afternoon, with a bright sun send ing slanting rays of shimmering light across the wide stretching prairie; a lazy brown horse plodding along, while his rider lurched sleepily from Side to side as if dozing in the saddle, and nothing else to be seen as far as the eye could reach. The horizon was like the open sea, limited only by the height of the point of view. It stretched away measureless to the west, and was only stopped in an equally measureless career toward the southeast by a belt of timber showing purple-blue against the copper-gleaming sky. It was toward this belt of timber that the sleepy horseman was riding.
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