tiness, and had gone on.

Floyd Carson alone might have prowled through both buildings, but
Seabeck was a slow-going man of sober justice. He would not invade the
premises of another farther than he thought it necessary. He had heard
whispers that the fellow on Mill Creek might bear investigation, and he
had investigated. There was not a shadow of evidence that the Y6
cattle had been gotten dishonestly. Therefore, Seabeck rode away and
did not look into the snow-banked cabin, as another man might have
done; and Ward missed his one chance of getting help from the outside.

Of course, he was doing pretty well as it was; but he would have
welcomed the chance to talk to someone. Taciturn as Ward was with men,
he had enough of his own company for once. And he would have asked
them to make him a cup of coffee and warm up the cabin once more.
Little comforts of that sort he missed terribly. If the room had not
been so clammy cold, he could have sat up part of the time, now. As it
was, he stayed in bed to keep warm; and even so he had been compelled
to drag the two wolf-skins off the floor and upon the bed to keep from
shivering through the coldest nights and days.

One day he did crawl out of bed and try to get over to the stove to
start a fire. But he was so weak that he gave it up and crawled back
again, telling himself that it was not worth the effort.

The letter with the silk neckerchief inside gathered dust upon the
mantel, down at the Wolverine. When the postmark was more than two
weeks old, another letter came, and Phoebe laid it on the fat one with
fingers that trembled a little. Phoebe had a letter of her own, that
day. Both were thin, and the addresses were more scrawly than usual.
Phoebe's Indian instinct warned her that something was amiss.

This was Ward's letter:

"Oh, God, Ward, mommie's dead. She died last night. I thought she was
asleep till the nurse came in at five o'clock. I'm all alone and I
don't know what to do. I wish you could come, but if you don't get
this right away, I'll see you at the ranch. I'm coming home as soon as
I can. Oh, Ward, I hate life and God and everything. BILLY LOUISE."

"Please Ward, stay at the ranch till I come. I want to see you. I
feel as if you're the only friend I've got left, now mommie's gone.
She looked so peaceful when they took her away--and so strange. I
didn't belong to her any more. I felt as if I didn't know her at
all--and there is s