grass against the cabin wall. She did not
faint nor grow dizzy nor lose her sight, but for a while there was no
process of thought in her mind. Suddenly then it was there--the quick,
spiritual rending of her heart--followed by a profound emotion of
intimate and irretrievable loss--and after that grief and bitter
realization.

An hour later Ellen found strength to go to the fire and partake of the
food and drink her body sorely needed.

Colter and the men waited on her solicitously, and in silence, now and
then stealing furtive glances at her from under the shadow of their
black sombreros. The dark night settled down like a blanket. There
were no stars. The wind moaned fitfully among the pines, and all about
that lonely, hidden recess was in harmony with Ellen's thoughts.

"Girl, y'u're shore game," said Colter, admiringly. "An' I reckon y'u
never got it from the Jorths."

"Tad in there--he's game," said Queen, in mild protest.

"Not to my notion," replied Colter. "Any man can be game when he's
croakin', with somebody around.... But Lee Jorth an' Jackson--they
always was yellow clear to their gizzards. They was born in
Louisiana--not Texas.... Shore they're no more Texans than I am. Ellen
heah, she must have got another strain in her blood."

To Ellen their words had no meaning. She rose and asked, "Where can I
sleep?"

"I'll fetch a light presently an' y'u can make your bed in there by
Tad," replied Colter.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Wal, if y'u reckon y'u can coax him to talk you're shore wrong,"
declared Colter, with that cold timbre of voice that struck like steel
on Ellen's nerves. "I cussed him good an' told him he'd keep his mouth
shut. Talkin' makes him cough an' that fetches up the blood....
Besides, I reckon I'm the one to tell y'u how your dad an' uncle got
killed. Tad didn't see it done, an' he was bad hurt when it happened.
Shore all the fellars left have their idee aboot it. But I've got it
straight."

"Colter--tell me now," cried Ellen.

"Wal, all right. Come over heah," he replied, and drew her away from
the camp fire, out in the shadow of gloom. "Poor kid! I shore feel
bad aboot it." He put a long arm around her waist and drew her against
him. Ellen felt it, yet did not offer any resistance. All her
faculties seemed absorbed in a morbid and sad anticipation.

"Ellen, y'u shore know I always loved y'u--now don't y 'u?" he asked,
with suppressed breath.

"No, Colter. It'