d to ten dollars.
Ten dollars stood between him and starvation for his children. Nor
could he see the smallest prospect of obtaining more. His imagination
was stirred. He saw in fancy the specter of starvation looming,
hungrily stretching out its gaunt arms, clutching at his two helpless
infants. He had no thought for himself. It did not occur to him that
he, too, must starve. He only pictured the wasting of the children's
round little bodies, he heard their weakly whimperings at the ravages
of hunger's pangs. He saw the tottering gait as they moved about,
unconscious of the trouble that was theirs, only knowing that they
were hungry. Their requests for food rang in his ears, maddening him
with the knowledge of his helplessness. He saw them growing weaker day
by day. He saw their wondering, wistful, uncomprehending eyes, so
bright and beautiful now, growing bigger and bigger as their soft
cheeks fell away. He--

He moved nervously. He shifted his position, vainly trying to rid
himself of the haunting vision. But panic was upon him. Starvation--that
was it. Starvation! God! how terrible was the thought. Starvation! And
yet, before--before Jessie had gone he had been no better off. He had
had only fifty dollars. But somehow it was all different then. She was
there, and he had had confidence. Now--now he had none. Then she was
there to manage, and he was free to work upon his claim.

Ah, his claim. That was it. The claim lay idle now with all its hidden
wealth. How he wanted that wealth which he so believed to be there.
No, he could not work his claim. The children could not be left alone
all day. That was out of the question. They must be cared for.
How--how?

His brain grew hot, and he broke out into a sweat. His head drooped
forward until his unshaven chin rested upon his sunken chest. His eyes
were lusterless, his two rough hands clenched nervously. Just for one
weak moment he longed for forgetfulness. He longed to shut out those
hideous visions with which he was pursued. He longed for peace, for
rest from the dull aching of his poor torn heart. His courage was at a
low ebb. Something of the nature of the hour had got hold of him. It
was sundown. There was the long black night between him and the
morrow. He felt so helpless, so utterly incapable.

But his moment passed. He raised his head. He stood erect from the
door casing. He planted his feet firmly, and his teeth gritted. The
spirit of the man rose again. He m