He made the entrance big enough to allow his own broad physique, and continued hollowing out the inside, eventually poking a square hole on either side of the entrance for windows. At the end of each day, he declared that he was done because the dugout seemed spacious enough—until, that is, he moved in a piece of furniture. Then he realized how small the room still was. So, the following morning, he resumed his digging. Meanwhile, Jennifer, now that she was out of the wagon, stayed out, if only to tend to her children. Walter had scythed away the grass from a small area where she could cook without setting the prairie on fire. Nearby she set up some chairs, a table, and a packing crate, which served as a kitchen counter. She even set out her rocker so that she could watch Walter digging as she rocked back and forth in grass that came up to her armrests and tickled her forearms. The wagon itself provided her with a semblance of a wall in what was otherwise an endless expanse that reached in every direction to the single encircling horizon.
