1 We sat down and made a nest in the long red grass.
2 The little trees were insignificant against the grass.
3 If the red grass were full of rattlers, I was equal to them all.
4 As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea.
5 As the sun sank there came a sudden coolness and the strong smell of earth and drying grass.
6 It seemed as if the grass were about to run over them, and over the plum-patch behind the sod chicken-house.
7 We were so deep in the grass that we could see nothing but the blue sky over us and the gold tree in front of us.
8 I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world, which could not be very far away.
9 Presently, against one of those banks, I saw a sort of shed, thatched with the same wine-coloured grass that grew everywhere.
10 The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up.
11 The grass had been nibbled short and even, so this stretch was not shaggy and red like the surrounding country, but grey and velvety.
12 As far as we could see, the miles of copper-red grass were drenched in sunlight that was stronger and fiercer than at any other time of the day.
13 The new country lay open before me: there were no fences in those days, and I could choose my own way over the grass uplands, trusting the pony to get me home again.
14 I could hardly wait to see what lay beyond that cornfield; but there was only red grass like ours, and nothing else, though from the high wagon-seat one could look off a long way.
15 While we were lying there against the warm bank, a little insect of the palest, frailest green hopped painfully out of the buffalo grass and tried to leap into a bunch of bluestem.
16 The light air about me told me that the world ended here: only the ground and sun and sky were left, and if one went a little farther there would be only sun and sky, and one would float off into them, like the tawny hawks which sailed over our heads making slow shadows on the grass.
17 Perhaps the glide of long railway travel was still with me, for more than anything else I felt motion in the landscape; in the fresh, easy-blowing morning wind, and in the earth itself, as if the shaggy grass were a sort of loose hide, and underneath it herds of wild buffalo were galloping, galloping.
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