t the fire goin' good.
I can't let y' off; it'll break up our system."

Anson rolled out of the bunk and dressed hurriedly in the cold room.
The only sound was the roar of the stove devouring the hay-twist. Anson
danced about.

"Thunder an' black cats, ain't it cold! The wind has died down, or we'd
be froze stiffer'n a wedge. It was mighty good in you, ol' man, to keep
the stove goin' durin' the night. The child has opened her eyes
brighter'n a dollar, but I tell you I don't like to let her know what's
happened to her relatives."

The little one began to wail in a frightened way, being alone in the
dim corner.

"There she goes now; she's wantin' to go home! That's what she's
askin', jes' like's not. Say, Bert, what the devil can I do?"

"Talk to her, Ans; chuckle to her."

"Talk! She'll think I'm threatenin' to knock her head off, or
somethin'. There there, don't ee cry! We'll go see papa soon.--Confound
it, man, I can't go on with this thing! There, there! See, child, we're
goin' to have some nice hot pancakes now; goin' to have breakfast now.
See, ol' pap's goin' to fry some pancakes. Whoop--see!" He took down
the saucepan, and flourished it in order to make his meaning plainer.
Bert laughed.

"That's as bad as your fist. Put that down, Ans. You'll scare the young
one into a fit; you ain't built f'r a jumpin'-jack."

The child did indeed set up a louder and more distracting yell. Getting
desperate, Anson seized her in his arms, and, despite her struggles,
began tossing her on his shoulder. The child understood him and ceased
to cry, especially as Gearheart began to set the table, making a
pleasant clatter, whistling the while.

The glorious light of the morning made its way only dimly through the
thickly frosted window-panes; the boards snapped in the horrible cold;
out in the barn the cattle were bellowing and kicking with pain.

"Do you know," said Bert, impressively, "I couldn't keep that woman out
o' my mind. I could see her layin' there without any quilts on her, an'
the mice a-runnin' over her. God! it's tough, this bein' alone on a
prairie on such a night."

"I knew I'd feel so, an' I jest naturally covered her up an' tucked the
covers in, the child a-lookin' on. I thought she'd feel better, seein'
her ma tucked in good an' warm. Poor little rat!"

"Did you do that, ol' man?"

"You bet I did! I couldn't have slep' a wink if I hadn't."

"Well, why didn't y' tell me, so't _I_ could sleep?"

"I