rapping for a fur company! He would do whatever he could to forget her.

Then, suddenly, he wished that he was a little boy again and could sit
on Aunt Mary's lap and lay his head on her shoulder the way he used to
when he came home from school with a sick headache. It always had
comforted him. A heartache was worse than a headache by a whole lot.
Somehow he was so lonely--so inexpressibly lonely. He had not felt like
this even that first winter on his homestead.

A lump rose in his throat to choke him, and he was about to turn away
lest someone see the mist in his eyes that blinded him, and that he felt
horribly ashamed of, when the sound of hoofs attracted his attention and
caused him to grow alert in an instant.

He was sure that it was Stott returning, and then he caught a glimpse of
him through the trees--galloping.

"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed that person, irritably, as he turned off
the road and came through the brush toward Wallie.

There was a bright shine in Wallie's eyes as he walked toward him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to camp in the middle of the
morning?" Stott demanded in his rasping voice as he dismounted.

Wallie returned evenly:

"You know as well as I do that choosing a camp is left to Hicks'
judgment. I told you not to get ahead of the supply-wagon."

"If you think I'm going to poke along behind like a snail, you're
mistaken!" Stott retorted.

Wallie's face went white under its tan, though his voice was quiet
enough as he answered:

"You'll 'poke' this afternoon, I'm thinking."

Stott turned sharply.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said. Look at that horse!"

The buckskin's head was hanging, its legs were trembling, there was not
a dry hair on it and the sweat was running in rivulets. Its sides were
swollen at the stirrup where the spurs had pricked it, and the corners
of its mouth were raw and bleeding.

Wallie continued and his voice now was savage:

"You're one of the people, and there's plenty like you, that ought to be
prevented by law from owning either a horse or a gun. This afternoon
you'll ride in the surrey or walk, as suits you."

Stott laughed insolently.

"Oh, I guess not!"

Wallie calmly loosened the latigo.

Stott took a step toward him with his heavy jaw thrust out and his hand
sought his hip pocket.

"Don't you take the saddle off that horse!" His tone was menacing.

A machine that had been purring in the distance passed, slowe