ing in the world fer ye, Smiles," he answered
simply.

"I believes thet yo' _think_ yo' would, Judd, but I wonders ef, deep in
yo'r heart, yo' really keers ernough fer me ter ... I kaint scarcely
explain what I means. I reckon I air powerful ignerrant in
speecherfyin'."

"I don't rightly know what yo' means, Smiles, but I give ye my promise
ter do whatsoever yo' wants, ef hit takes my life," he declared
earnestly, his former selfish desire to bend her will into compliance
with his own for the moment yielding to his blind eagerness to prove his
love.

Youthful and unsophisticated in worldly wiles as she was, the eternal
feminine in Rose sensed her victory and power, and, still maintaining
her half commanding, half tenderly appealing tone, she outlined her
plan, for the accomplishment of which his aid was all essential.

Judd protested, pleaded and stormed--all to no avail. He felt himself
like a man caught in a snare of his own weaving--a snare strengthened by
fair, yet unbreakable, silken threads added by the child.

Finally, miserable at heart, he yielded, and departed with his hand
tingling from the impulsive affectionate pressure of Smiles' fingers
upon it. But, as the conscious thrill which it caused in his being
lessened, his thoughts became immersed in gloom, through which no
encouraging light made its way. He realized that he had lost the first
battle for her heart, and the loss brought closer the dark spectre of
ultimate defeat.

CHAPTER VII

"SMILES'" GIFT: AND THE "WRITING"

"Now, my boy, let us hear an account of your trip. Did you enjoy it, and
find anything of especial interest in the mountains of the feud
country?"

The doctor's father lighted his after-dinner cigar, and leaned back with
the indolent satisfaction which a man ripe in useful years may feel when
surrounded by his family. Since the death of his wife, he and his
children had been more inseparably attached one to another than ever,
and each drew a full measure of happiness from these all-too-infrequent
reunions, when Donald could be with them. Even little Muriel was not
left out of the group, for she had been granted the exceptional
privilege of sitting up an extra hour, and listening to the wonderful
hunting tales told by her beloved Uncle Don, upon whose lap she was now
contentedly curled. Her mother and father sat near by.

"Yes, to both questions," responded Donald.

"Did you shoot any bears?" queried his little niece,