hat brought no sleep. And the cedar tree, swayed in the
raw autumn air, talking to itself sombrely of the empty nest in its
heart, sounded upon her wakeful ears a note of desolation and despair.
For all the Turkey Tracks soon knew that Blatch Turrentine was sound and
whole; all Hepzibah knew it eventually--and Creed Bonbright neither
returned nor made any sign.

The embargo being removed, Judith went straight to Nancy Card.

In the preoccupation of her sorrow, she might have forgotten Little
Buck's wounded heart; but when as of custom Beezy came rioting out to
meet her, the man child hung back with so strange a countenance that she
needs must note it.

"Come here, honey," she urged tenderly--her own suffering made her very
pitiful to the childish grief.

Little Buck came slowly up to his idol, lifting doubtful eyes to her
face. The girl's ready arm went swiftly round the small figure.

"Are you pestered about that word I sent Creed Bonbright by you?" she
whispered.

The little boy nodded solemnly, and you could see the choke in his
throat.

"Well, you don't need to be," she reassured him. "I had to send jest that
word, Little Buck--jest that very word; nothin' less would 'a' brought
him."

Again the child nodded, twisting around to look in her face, his own
countenance clearing a bit.

"But it don't make any differ between you an' me, does it, honey?" she
pursued. "You're Jude's man, jest the same as you ever was, ain't ye? You
wouldn't never need to be jealous of anybody; 'cause you know all the
time that Judy loves you."

Silently the small man put his arms round her neck and hugged her
hard--an unusual demonstration for Little Buck. And during her entire
stay he hung close about, somewhat to Nancy's annoyance, seeming to find
plentiful joy in the contemplation of his recovered treasure.

The loss of Creed had meant a good deal to Nancy. More like a son than a
boarder in her house, he had brought with him a sense of support and
competence such as the hard-worked little woman had never known. With his
going, she was back again in the old helpless, moneyless situation, with
Pony on her hands a growing problem and anxiety, and Doss Provine but a
broken reed on which to lean. Such inquiries after Creed as they managed
to set afoot fetched no return.

"Hit ain't like Creed to be scared and keep runnin'," she would repeat
pathetically. "I know in reason something awful has chanced to that boy.
Either that, o