He thanked me, and I gave him a list of the things I wanted.  Then he went on up the street ahead of us, walking calmly, and looking about him as any stranger might have done.  We stood for some time, waiting for the jam of teams to clear, and I gee-upped and whoa-hawed on along the street, until we came to a building on which was a big sign, “Post-Office.”  There was a queue of people waiting for their mail, extending out at the door, and far down the sidewalk.  In this string of emigrants stood our friend, the black-bearded man.  Just as we passed, a rather thin, stooped man, walking along on the other side of the street, rushed across, right in front of my lead team, and drawing a pistol, aimed at the black-bearded man, who in turn stepped out of line and drew his own weapon.

“I call upon you all to witness,” said the black-bearded man, “that I act in self-defense.”

A bystander seized the thin man’s pistol hand, and yelled at him not to shoot or he might kill some one—­of course he meant some one he did not aim at, but it sounded a little funny, and I laughed.  Several joined in the laugh, and there was a good deal of confusion.  At last I heard the black-bearded man say, “I’m here alone.  He’s accused his wife of being too thick with a dozen men.  He’s insanely jealous, gentlemen.  I suppose his wife may have left him, but I’m here alone.  I just crossed the river alone, and I’m going west.  If he’s got a warrant, he’s welcome to have it served if he finds his wife with me.  Come on, gentlemen—­but take the fool’s pistol away from him.”

As I drove on I saw that the woman had thrown off the quilt, and was peeping out at the opening in the cover at the back, watching the black-bearded and the thin man moving off in a group of fellows, one of whom held the black-bearded man by the arm a good deal as a deputy sheriff might have done.

The roads leading west out of Dubuque were horrible, then, being steep stony trails coming down the hollows and washed like watercourses at every rain.  Teams were stalled, sometimes three and four span of animals were used to get one load to the top, and we were a good deal delayed.  I was so busy trying to keep from upsetting when I drove around stalled outfits and abandoned wagons, and so occupied in finding places where I might stop and breathe my team, that I paid little attention to my queer-acting passenger; but once when we were standing I noticed that she was covered up again, and seemed to be crying.  As we topped the bluffs, and drew out into the open, she sat up and began to rearrange her hair.  After a few miles, we reached a point from which I could see the Iowa prairie sweeping away as far as the eye could see.  I drew out by the roadside to look at it, as a man appraises one with whom he must live—­as a friend or an enemy.