n so worried!"

"And the baby, Nan?"

The wife gently pushed back the covers and proudly brought to view a
tiny pink and puckered face. "Fine, Joe. She's just as fine, isn't
she?"

A proud, happy light flickered for a moment in the man's eyes as he
stooped to kiss the tiny face; then he shut his teeth hard and
swallowed suddenly.

"What is it, Joe?" his wife asked, looking at the rudely bandaged
foot.

"Cut it--nigh half off, and hurt the bone. It'll be weeks before I can
do a stroke of work again. It means--I don't know what, and I daren't
think what, Nannie. The cook sewed it up." He glowered at the injured
member savagely.

His wife's face grew paler still, but she only asked tenderly, "How
did you ever get here, Joe?"

"Rode one of Pose Breem's hosses--his red roan."

"Fifteen miles on horseback with that foot? I should have thought it
would have killed you, Joe."

"I had to come, Nan," said the lumberman. "I didn't know how you were
getting on, and I had to come."

"I didn't suppose they'd let you have a horse, any of 'em, now
sleighing's come."

"They wouldn't--if I'd asked 'em. They don't seem to like me very
well, and I didn't ask."

His wife's big, wistful eyes were turned upon him in quick alarm. "I'm
scared, Joe, if you took a horse without asking. What'll they think?
Where is it, Joe?"

"Don't ye worry, Nan. I've sent the horse back by Pikepole Pete. He'll
have him back before morning--Pose won't miss him till then--and I
wrote a note explaining. Pose will be mad some, but he'll get over
it."

The young lumberman listened uneasily to the storm, which was
increasing, looked at his wife's pale face a moment, and added:

"I had to come, Nan. I just had to."

But the woman was only half reassured. "If anything should happen,"
she said, "if he shouldn't get it back, they'd think you--you stole
it, and--"

"There, there, Nan!" broke in her husband, "don't be crossing bridges.
Pete'll take the horse back. I've done the fellow lots of favours, and
he won't go back on me. Don't worry, girl!"

He moved the bandaged foot and winced, but not from the pain of the
wound. The hard look grew deeper on his face. "I'm down on my luck,
Nan," he said, hopelessly. "There's no use trying. Everything's
against me, everything--following me like grim death. And grim death,"
he jerked the words out harshly, "is like to be the end of it, here in
this old shack that's not fit to winter hogs in, let alone huma