eyelids; her heart was
bursting; only her pride sustained her. Then in a half-whispered voice,
like a child telling its troubles, she said:--

"Ye don't know--ye don't know, Gran'pop. The dear God knows it's not on
account of meself. It's Tom I'm thinkin' of night an' day--me Tom,
me Tom. She's his child as well as mine. If he could only help me! He
wanted such great things for Jennie. It ud be easier if he hadn't saved
Patsy. Don't speak to me ag'in about it, father dear; it hurts me."

The old man rose from his chair and walked slowly into the house. All
his talks with his daughter ended in this way. It was always what Tom
would have thought. Why should a poor crazy cripple like her husband,
shut up in an asylum, make trouble for Jennie?

When the light faded and the trees grew indistinct in the gloom, Tom
still sat where Pop had left her. Soon the shadows fell in the little
valley, and the hill beyond the cedars lost itself in the deepening haze
that now crept in from the tranquil sea.

Carl's voice calling to Cully to take in the Gray roused her to
consciousness. She pushed back her chair, stood for an instant watching
Carl romping with Patsy, and then walked slowly toward the stable.

By the time she reached the water-trough her old manner had returned.
Her step became once more elastic and firm; her strong will asserted
itself. She had work to do, and at once. In two hours the board would
meet. She needed all her energies and resources. The lovers must wait;
she could not decide any question for them now.

As she passed the stable window a man in a fur cap raised his head
cautiously above the low fence and shrank back into the shadow.

Tom threw open the door and felt along the sill for the lantern and
matches. They were not in their accustomed place. The man crouched, ran
noiselessly toward the rear entrance, and crept in behind a stall. Tom
laid her hand on the haunches of the horse and began rolling back his
blanket. The man drew himself up slowly until his shoulders were on a
level with the planking. Tom moved a step and turned her face. The man
raised his arm, whirled a hammer high in the air, and brought it down
upon her head.

When Cully led the Big Gray into his stall, a moment later, he stepped
into a pool of blood.

XV. IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH

At the appointed hour the Board of Trustees met in the hall over the
post-office. The usual loungers filled the room--members of the Union,
and o