_July 23rd_, CHEYENNE, WYOMING. THIRTEEN _July 23rd. Cheyenne, Wyoming._ Alas, for our dreams of a comfortable journey home; alas for our expectation of seeing the country; alas, too, for our hopes of saving money for a fresh start in the world. We face mountains and desert with nothing but a grim determination to win or die. After we left Sydney, Mrs. Adams abandoned herself to a mounting jealousy, which became increasingly evident to us all. The hours that I was forced to spend with her behind the ambling mules, were torture. She took advantage of every opportunity to annoy and humiliate me, so that every atom of my patience and control was needed to avoid a scene. But my best efforts availed nothing with the woman. We had been travelling through a very sparsely settled region some twenty-five or thirty miles east of Cheyenne when the affair came to a climax. About eleven o’clock I left Mrs. Adams waiting in the country road while I called at a farm house, which stood some distance away in a clump of trees. She had refused to drive in as usual, but had ordered me to go in and trade for or purchase some fresh eggs. When I reached the house no one was at home, and after considerable search in the outbuildings, I returned empty handed to the road, only to find the wagon gone. Dust was rising in the distance and I could just see the black wagon top as the mules pulled slowly over a rise. My blood was boiling as I set off down the road at a jog trot, expecting to overtake the slow-going mules in the first mile or so. I was within hailing distance of the team when Mrs. Adams glanced back, whipped the animals into a lively trot, and with an insulting gesture coolly outdistanced me. “Very well,” I said to myself, steadying my pace. “I’ll walk no further than the first water. Then I’ll rest until night. Dan will come into camp and miss me. He’ll take the buckboard and start hunting. And when we finally come up with that woman there will be something doing.” But water is scarce in that country, and at last I sat down in the sparse shade of a clump of bushes to wait for a rescue. It came much sooner than I expected, for it was not more than three o’clock when I was roused from a light doze by a cheerful halloo and sprang up to see Mr. Adams reining in the horses. He leaped down in a jiffy, brought out the oozing canvas bag of water that he always carried in this desert country and handed me a delicious draught.