ext to the Wolverine ranch, there was no Billy Louise to
taunt or tempt him. John Pringle and Phoebe told him in brief, stolid
sentences of the later developments and gave him a meal and offered him
a bed, which he declined.

When the suspense became maddening, after that, he would ride down to
the Wolverine for news. And the news was monotonously scant. Phoebe
could read and write, after a fashion, and Billy Louise sent her a
letter now and then, saying that mommie was about the same, and that
she wanted John to do certain things about the ranch. She could not
leave mommie, she said. Ward gathered that she would not.

Once when he was at the ranch, he wrote a letter to Billy Louise, and
told her that he would come to Boise if there was anything he could do,
and begged her to let him know if she needed any money. Beyond that he
worked and worked, and tried to crowd the lonesomeness out of his days
and the hunger from his dreams, with complete bone-weariness. He did
not expect an answer to his letter--at least he told himself that he
did not--but one day Phoebe gave him a thin little letter more precious
in his eyes than the biggest nugget he had found.

Billy Louise did not write much; she explained that she could only
scribble a line or two while mommie slept. Mommie was about the same.
She did not think there was anything Ward could do, and she thanked him
for offering to help. There was nothing, she said pathetically, that
anybody could do; even the doctors did not seem able to do much, except
tell her lies and charge her for them. No, she did not need any money,
"thank you just the same, Ward." That was about all. It did not sound
in the least like Billy Louise.

Ward answered the note then and there, and called her
Wilhemina-mine--which was an awkward name to write and cost him five
minutes of cogitation over the spelling. But he wanted it down on
paper where she could see it and remember how it sounded when he said
it, even if it did look queer. Farther along he started to call her
Bill Loo, but rubbed it out and substituted Lady Girl (with capitals).
Altogether he did better than he knew, for he made Billy Louise cry
when she read it, and he made her say "Dear Ward!" under her breath,
and remember how his hair waved over his left temple, and how he looked
when that smile hid just behind his lips and his eyes. And he made her
forget that she had lost faith in him. She needed to cry, and she
nee