h desire. And when Billy Louise jabbed two little
slits in a cream can with the point of a butcher knife and poured a
thin stream of canned milk into a big, white granite cup, Ward's eyes
turned traitor to his love for the girl and dwelt hungrily upon the
swift movements of her hands.

"How much sugar, patient?" Billy Louise turned toward him with the
tomato-can sugar-bowl in her hands.

"None. I want to taste the coffee, this trip."

"Oh, all right! It's the worst thing you could think of, but that's
the way with a patient. Patients always want what they mustn't have."

"Sure--get it, too." Ward spoke between long, satisfying gulps.
"How's your other patient, Wilhemina? How's mommie?"

"Oh, Ward! She's dead--mommie's dead!" Billy Louise broke down
unexpectedly and completely. She went down on her knees beside the bed
and cried as she had not cried since she looked the last time at
mommie's still face, held in that terrifying calm. She cried until
Ward's excited mutterings warned her that she must pull herself
together. She did, somehow, in spite of her sorrow and her worry and
that day's succession of emotional shocks. She did it because Ward was
sick--very sick, she was afraid--and there was so much that she must do
for him.

"You be s-still," she commanded brokenly, fighting for her former safe
cheerfulness. "I'm all right. Pity yourself, if you've got to pity
somebody. I--can stand--my trouble. I haven't got any broken leg
and--hookin'-cough." She managed a laugh then and took Ward's hand
from her hair and laid it down on the blankets. "Now we won't talk
about things any more. You've got to have something done for that cold
on your lungs." She rose and stood looking down at him with puckered
eyebrows.

"Mommie would say you ought to have a good sweat," she decided. "Got
any ginger?"

"I dunno. I guess not," Ward muttered confusedly.

"Well, I'll go out and find some sage, then, and give you sage tea.
That's another cure-all. Say, Ward, I saw Rattler down the creek.
He's looking fine and dandy. He came whinnying down out of that draw,
to meet us; just tickled to death to see somebody."

"Don't blame him," croaked Ward. "It's enough to tickle anybody." Her
voice seemed to steady his straying fancies. "How're--the
cattle--looking?"

"Just fine," lied Billy Louise. "You're the skinniest thing I've seen
on the ranch. Now do you think you can keep your senses, while I go
and pi