ell up. Her watch had stopped.

In the absence of toilet conveniences she arranged her hair as best she
could; and having adjusted her skirt-band and smoothed out the
wrinkles, she put her hand to the latch. Her attention was caught by
certain sunlit inscriptions on the pine siding--verses signed by the
pencil of Pete Harding, Paducah, Kentucky. Mr. Harding showed that he
had a large repertoire of ribald rhyme. And he had chosen this bright
spot whereon to immortalize his name. She opened the door and went out.

Mr. Brown was nowhere to be seen. The flock, all eyes, turned in a
body and stared at her. Presently she went to look for him. He was
not in the storm-shed, nor anywhere down the slope, nor in the gully.
She walked slowly round the shack and scanned the prairie in all
directions. The face of nature was quite innocent of his presence.
The dog, too, was gone.

As she came back to her starting place, the sheep again regarded her in
pale-eyed expectation. A ewe emitted her one doleful note; another
gave hers, sadly. The fire had been burning quite a while; it had made
a good bed of coals on which the kettle was steaming briskly. She put
on the coffee and prepared breakfast; and as he still continued to be
absent, she sat down and ate alone. Then she put up a lunch and stowed
it in the pocket of her slicker. Its weight had diminished
considerably from what it was the day before, and as it did not now
have to be done up in the form of a bundle it could be carried in a
more convenient way. She folded the slicker lengthwise and threw it
across her shoulder.

He had pointed out to her the direction in which the road lay at its
nearest point. She walked up and down restlessly. After much
indecision and aimless casting about, she turned suddenly toward her
own quarter of the horizon and set forth on her journey. But having
proceeded a fair distance she slackened her pace and came to a stop;
and again she strolled up and down, looking occasionally in the
direction of the knoll. Finally, she returned to it and resumed her
meditations, less impatient.

After a long time, or so it seemed to her, she looked up and saw him
coming. He carried a rope, the long noose of which he was making
smaller to fit the coil on his arm. As he reached the shack he threw
down the coil and lifted his hat.

"Good-morning, Miss Janet"--he used the Southern form of address--"are
you all ready to leave us?"

"Yes; I thou