ands at a
nominal figure."

Mr. Pantin cooling his heels at the outer portals smiled. He knew what
Kate did not--that Neifkins was one of the directors.

"But the notes are not due until early next summer--after shearing.
Uncle Joe told me so."

"True," he assented. Then with a large air of erudition: "The law,
however, provides for such cases as this. When the security of the
mortgager is in jeopardy through incompetence or other causes he can
foreclose immediately."

Kate paled as she listened.

"But there's no danger, Mr. Wentz," she protested breathlessly. "Your
money's as safe as when Uncle Joe was living. I understand sheep--he
said I was a better sheepman than he was because I had more patience and
like them. I'll watch them closer than ever--day or night I'll never
leave them. I'll promise you! I've got a good herder now and between us
we can handle them."

Mr. Wentz shrugged a skeptical shoulder.

"You couldn't convince the directors of that. There's none of 'em wants
to risk the bank's money with a woman in that kind of business."

"But can't you see," she pleaded, "that it's ruin to ship now? It will
wipe me out completely. Put some one out there of your own choosing, if
you can't trust me, but don't make me sell with the bottom out of the
market!"

"You've got the bank's decision," he responded, coldly.

"Please--please reconsider! Just give me a chance--you won't be sorry! I
only know sheep--I've never had the opportunity to learn anything else,
and I've no place to go but that little homestead back in the hills.
I've no one in the world to turn to. Won't you give me a trial, and then
if you see I can't handle it--"

"It's no use arguin'." Wentz brought both hands down on the arms of the
chair in impatient finality. "We're goin' to ship as soon as we can get
cars and drive to the railroad, so you might as well turn them sheep
over and stop hollerin'."

Kate rose and took a step forward, her hands outstretched in entreaty:

"Once more I ask you--give me a little time--I'll try and raise the
money somewhere--ten days--give me ten days--I beg of you!"

"Ten years or ten days or ten minutes--'twould be all the same," his
voice was raucous as he, too, stood up. He looked at her contemptuously.
"No; it's settled. The bank's goin' to take over them sheep, and if
there's anything left after the mortgage is satisfied you'll get it." He
indicated that the interview was over. "Step in, Pantin."

Fo