he returned she had removed her hat, gloves and
spurs, washed her dust-streaked face, smoothed her hair, slipped on an
enveloping apron over her riding clothes and had the chops frying.

The sight warmed his heart as he paused for a moment outside the circle
of light which came through the entrance.

He had seen the same thing often before, but it never had impressed him
particularly. Her presence in the canvas tent made the difference
between home and a mere shelter. The small crumbs of bread he had cast
upon the water were indeed coming back to him.

"I've ridden over forty miles since morning," she chattered, while he
flung the snow flakes from his hat brim and brushed them from his
shoulders. "The wind blew the horses' tracks out so I couldn't follow
them. I never caught sight of them until just this side of Prouty. You
can sit down, Uncle Joe--everything's ready."

They talked of the coming snowstorm, and the advisability of holding the
sheep on the bed-ground if it should be a bad one; of the trip to town
that he was contemplating; of the coyote that was bothering and the
possibility of trapping him. There was no dearth of topics of mutual
interest. Nevertheless, Mormon Joe knew that she was holding something
in reserve and wondered at this reticence. It came finally when they had
finished and still lingered at the table.

"Who do you suppose I met to-day when I was hunting horses?"

"Teeters?" Mormon Joe was tearing a leaf from his book of cigarette
papers.

"Guess again."

He shook his head.

"Can't imagine."

She announced impressively:

"Mrs. Toomey!"

He was distributing tobacco from the sack upon the crease in the paper
with exactitude. He made no comment, so Kate said with increased
emphasis:

"She was crying!"

Still he was silent, and she demanded:

"Aren't you surprised?"

She looked crestfallen, so he asked obligingly:

"Where did all of this happen?"

"In a draw a couple of miles this side of Prouty, where I found the
horses. They had gone there to get out of the wind and it was by only a
chance that I rode down into it.

"She was in the bottom, huddled against a rock, and didn't see me until
I was nearly on her. I thought she was sick--she looked terrible."

"And was she?"

"No--she was worried."

"Naturally. Any woman would be who married Toomey."

"About money."

"Indeed." His tone and smile were ironic.

Kate, a trifle disconcerted, continued:

"He's had bad luc