r'n to her," he said, in the low drawl which boded much with him.

Cassandra, on her knees at the hearth, was arranging sticks of fat pine
to light the fire. Her hands shook as she held them. This Frale saw, and
his eyes gleamed. He came to her side and, kneeling also, took them from
her.

"Hit's my place to do this fer you now, Cass. F'om now on--I reckon.
I'll hang the kittle fer ye, too, an' fetch the water."

The mother stared at them in silence, and Cassandra, taking up the
coffee-pot, rose and went out. When she returned, the fire was crackling
merrily, and the great kettle swung over it. Hoyle was up and seated on
his half-brother's knee. Cassandra's eyes looked heavy and showed traces
of tears.

Frale saw it all, with eyes gleaming blue through narrowly drawn lids.
His lips quivered a little as he talked with Hoyle. He drew out his
money for the child to count over gleefully, thus diverting himself with
the boy, while he watched Cassandra furtively. He decided to say no more
at present until she should have had time to adjust her mind to the
thought he had so daringly announced to her mother. The two cakes little
Dorothy had given him he took from his bundle and gave to Hoyle, then
carried him back and put him to bed and told him to sleep again.

For all of her promise, Cassandra had not expected this to come upon her
so suddenly, like lightning out of a clear sky, startling her very soul
with fear. As Frale ate what she set before him, she went over to the
bedside, and sat there holding her mother's hand and talking in low
tones, while Hoyle, with wide eyes, strove to hear.

"Be hit true, what he says, Cass?"

"Not all, mother. I never told him I would go and live over beyond Lone
Pine. I meant always to live right here with you, but I am promised to
him. I gave him my word that night he left, to get him to go and save
him. Oh, God! Mother, I didn't guess it would come so soon. He promised
me he would repent his deed and live right."

The mother brightened and drew her daughter down and spoke low in her
ear. "Make him keep to his promise first, child. Yuer safe thar. I
reckon he's doin' a heap o' repentin' this-a-way. I ain' goin' 'low you
throw you'se'f away on no Farwell, ef he be good-lookin', 'thout he
holds to his word good fer a year. Hit's jes' the way his paw done me.
He gin me his word 'at he'd stop 'stillin' an' drinkin', an' he helt to
hit fer three months, an' then he come on me this-a-way a