feet.

Suddenly she appeared at the door, a frightened look on her face.

"Why, mother!--what is the matter?" asked her daughter.

She pointed to her mouth and shook her head, to indicate that she could
not speak. David leaped toward her, but she dropped before he could
reach her.

Lifting her in his strong arms he laid her on her bed and hastened for
the doctor. All in vain! She sank into unconsciousness and died without
a word of farewell.

She fell like a soldier in the ranks. Having served uncomplainingly up
to the very edge of her evening bivouac, she passed to her final sleep
in silent dignity.

CHAPTER III

The Home in the Coulee

Our postoffice was in the village of Onalaska, situated at the mouth of
the Black River, which came down out of the wide forest lands of the
north. It was called a "boom town" for the reason that "booms" or yards
for holding pine logs laced the quiet bayou and supplied several large
mills with timber. Busy saws clamored from the islands and great rafts
of planks and lath and shingles were made up and floated down into the
Mississippi and on to southern markets.

It was a rude, rough little camp filled with raftsmen, loggers,
mill-hands and boomsmen. Saloons abounded and deeds of violence were
common, but to me it was a poem. From its position on a high plateau it
commanded a lovely southern expanse of shimmering water bounded by
purple bluffs. The spires of LaCrosse rose from the smoky distance, and
steamships' hoarsely giving voice suggested illimitable reaches of
travel. Some day I hoped my father would take me to that shining
market-place whereto he carried all our grain.

In this village of Onalaska, lived my grandfather and grandmother
Garland, and their daughter Susan, whose husband, Richard Bailey, a
quiet, kind man, was held in deep affection by us all. Of course he
could not quite measure up to the high standards of David and William,
even though he kept a store and sold candy, for he could neither kill a
bear, nor play the fiddle, nor shoot a gun--much less turn hand-springs
or tame a wild horse, but we liked him notwithstanding his limitations
and were always glad when he came to visit us.

Even at this time I recognized the wide differences which separated the
McClintocks from the Garlands. The fact that my father's people lived to
the west and in a town helped to emphasize the divergence.

All the McClintocks were farmers, but grandfather Garland was