In this way, the ice being broken, our companion entertained us as the hours passed. Of all subjects, however, he seemed to like best those relating to government, and Uncle Job, while having little knowledge of such matters, had yet a patriotic interest; and so the conversation of our companion was not allowed to lag, as we journeyed on, for want of an attentive and appreciative listener. *CHAPTER XIII* *THE PLACE OF REFUGE* The undulations of the great prairie we were traversing added to its beauty without in any way restricting the distant view, but late in the forenoon there loomed before us an elevation higher than the others and so noticeable as to attract and hold attention. Our companion, indeed, watched it intently from the moment it came into view, and this without speaking or motion of any kind, as if he were enraptured with the view, or saw something not perceptible to Uncle Job or myself. When we at last reached its base, he called to the driver to stop, and excusing himself, got down and made his way to the top of the hill, and reaching its summit, stopped and gazed about him and then upward, as if offering a prayer. Remaining thus for some time, his tall figure outlined against the distant sky, he at last turned and slowly retraced his steps, taking his seat in the stage without speaking. Whether oppressed by his thoughts or interrogating our silence, I know not, but after a while he turned to Uncle Job, as if in apology or explanation, and said: "You wonder, perhaps, at what I did, but the hill is a sacred spot to me because of the recollections that cluster about it and the memory of a dear friend that is gone." "Indeed!" Uncle Job replied, sympathetically; "what you say interests me greatly." "Yes," our companion went on in a melancholy voice; "and except for his courage and knowledge of the prairie, I should have suffered a cruel death near the spot where we now are." Saying which he relapsed into silence again, and Uncle Job, who was never curious about other people’s affairs, or bashful about expressing it if he was—which latter is perhaps the more probable of the two—made no further comment, but sat still, gazing stolidly before him. I, not having any modesty, and being stirred by what the stranger said, could not restrain my curiosity, and so spoke up: "Please, sir, tell us about it, if you will." At this he smiled, and after a moment’s reflection, answered: "Certainly, if you would like to hear it." "I should, very much," I replied; whereupon he turned to Uncle Job, as if to ask his consent, upon which the latter responded, with great heartiness: "It would be a pleasure indeed to hear the story, if it is agreeable to you to tell it."