or she was married now, and in her eyes
that was final and all rebellion was useless. She knew nothing about
a license, but she knew that a preacher married folks. She consoled
herself by thinking that she had always intended to marry Canute
someday, anyway.

She grew tired of crying and looking into the fire, so she got up and
began to look about her. She had heard queer tales about the inside of
Canute's shanty, and her curiosity soon got the better of her rage.
One of the first things she noticed was the new black suit of clothes
hanging on the wall. She was dull, but it did not take a vain woman long
to interpret anything so decidedly flattering, and she was pleased in
spite of herself. As she looked through the cupboard, the general air of
neglect and discomfort made her pity the man who lived there.

"Poor fellow, no wonder he wants to get married to get somebody to wash
up his dishes. Batchin's pretty hard on a man."

It is easy to pity when once one's vanity has been tickled. She looked
at the windowsill and gave a little shudder and wondered if the man were
crazy. Then she sat down again and sat a long time wondering what her
Dick and Ole would do.

"It is queer Dick didn't come right over after me. He surely came, for
he would have left town before the storm began and he might just as
well come right on as go back. If he'd hurried he would have gotten here
before the preacher came. I suppose he was afraid to come, for he
knew Canuteson could pound him to jelly, the coward!" Her eyes flashed
angrily.

The weary hours wore on and Lena began to grow horribly lonesome. It was
an uncanny night and this was an uncanny place to be in. She could
hear the coyotes howling hungrily a little way from the cabin, and more
terrible still were all the unknown noises of the storm. She remembered
the tales they told of the big log overhead and she was afraid of those
snaky things on the windowsills. She remembered the man who had been
killed in the draw, and she wondered what she would do if she saw crazy
Lou's white face glaring into the window. The rattling of the door
became unbearable, she thought the latch must be loose and took the
lamp to look at it. Then for the first time she saw the ugly brown snake
skins whose death rattle sounded every time the wind jarred the door.

"Canute, Canute!" she screamed in terror.

Outside the door she heard a heavy sound as of a big dog getting up and
shaking himself. The door op