She waited half doubting, half amused at her fears. It was only the
twinge of a muscle perhaps. She smiled at her sudden panic. The thought
had scarcely formed before she blanched the second time and the firm
lips came together with sudden energy as she glanced at the child
playing on the rug at her feet.

She seized the horn that hung beside the door and blew the pioneer's
long call of danger. Its shrill note rang through the woods against the
hills in cadences that seemed half muffled by the falling snow.

Again her anxious eyes looked from the doorway. Would he never come! The
trembling slender hand once more lifted the horn, a single wild note
rang out and broke suddenly into silence. The horn fell from her limp
grasp and she lifted her eyes to the darkening sky in prayer, as Tom's
voice from the edge of the woods came strong and full:

"Yes, Honey, I'm comin'!"

There was no question of doctor or nurse. The young pioneer mother only
asked for her mate.

For two fearful hours she gripped his rough hands until at last her
nails brought the blood, but the man didn't know or care. Every
smothered cry that came from her lips began to tear the heart out of his
body at last. He could hold the long pent agony no longer without words.

"My God, Nancy, what can I do for ye, Honey?"

Her breath came in gasps and her eyes were shining with a strange
intensity.

"Nothing, Tom, nothing now--I'm looking Death in the face and I'm not
afraid----"

"Please lemme give ye some whiskey," he pleaded, pressing the glass to
her lips.

"No--no, take it away--I hate it. My baby shall be clean and strong or I
want to die."

The decision seemed to brace her spirit for the last test when the
trembling feet entered the shadows of the dim valley that lies between
Life and Death.

The dark, slender figure lay still and white at last. A sharp cry from
lusty lungs, and the grey eyes slowly opened, with a timid wondering
look.

"Tom!" she cried with quick eager tones.

"Yes, Nancy, yes!"

"A boy?"

"Of course--and a buster he is, too."

"Give him to me--quick!"

The stalwart figure bent over the bed and laid the little red bundle in
her arms. She pressed him tenderly to her heart, felt his breath on her
breast and the joyous tears slowly poured down her cheeks.

III

Before the first year of the boy's life had passed the task of teaching
his good-natured, stubborn father became impossible. The best the wife
could do wa