y. Somewhere in the
wide courts of heaven there must be reserved an abode of inconceivable
joy and peace for such men as he, men who preach the Word faithfully
through the years, whose hand-clasp means fellowship, and in whose
tongue is the law of kindness.

"Say, Clate, where's Bud going?" Somebody called across the table. Bud
was beside Marjie, whose company was always at a premium in any
gathering.

"Let him tell; it's his secret," Clayton answered. "I'll be glad when
he's gone"--he was speaking across to Marjie now--"then I'll get some
show, maybe."

"I'm going to hunt a wife," Bud sang out. "Can't find a thoul here
who'll thtay with me long enough to get acquainted. I'm going out Wetht
thomewhere."

"I'd stay with you a blamed sight longer if I wasn't acquainted with you
than if I was," Bill Mead broke in. "It's because they do get acquainted
that they don't stay, Bud; and anyhow, they can run faster out there
than here, the girls can; they have to, to keep away from the Indians.
And there's no tepee ring for the ponies to stumble over. Marjie, do you
remember the time Jean Pahusca nearly got you? I remember it, for when I
came to after the shock, I was standing square on my head with both
feet in the air. All I could see was Bud dragging Jean's pony out of the
muss. I thought he was upside down at first and the horses were walking
like flies on the ceiling."

Marjie's memories of that moment were keen. So were O'mie's.

"Well, what ever did become of that Jean, anyhow? Anybody here seen him
for five years?"

The company looked at one another. Bud's face was as innocent as a
baby's. Lettie Conlow at the foot of the table encountered O'mie's eyes
and her face flamed. Dr. John Anderson was explaining the happening to
Tillhurst and some newcomers in Springvale to whom the story was
interesting, and the whole table began to recall old times and old
escapades of Jean's.

"Wasn't afraid of anything on earth," Bill Mead declared.

"Yeth he wath, brother," Bud broke in, while Bess Anderson blushed
deeply at Bud's teasing name. Bill and Bess were far along the happy way
of youth and love.

"Why, what did he fear?" Judson asked Dave Mead at the head of the
table.

"Phil Baronet. He never would fight Phil. He didn't dare. He couldn't
bear to be licked."

And then the conversation turned on me, and my virtues and shortcomings
were reviewed in friendly gossip. Only Judson's face wore a sneer.

"I don't wonder