, black, distorted, yet overflowing with love
and affection. Poor little Tommy! He took him in his arms to comfort
him, and bedded him down on the pillow. But when he stepped outside he
found that his world too was vacant--the house deserted, the corrals
empty, the _rodeo_ camp a smouldering fireplace, surrounded by a
wilderness of tin cans.

As the slow grief of the forsaken came upon him he turned and went to
his room, where the atmosphere of womankind still lingered to suggest
the dear hands that were gone, and suddenly his eyes leaped to the
letters left upon the table. It was Kitty's which he opened first,
perhaps because it was nearest; but the torrent of inconsequential
words confused him by their unreason and he turned to Lucy's, reading
it over thoughtfully.

"DEAR RUFUS:

"We have waited a long time for you to wake up, and now father
says we must go. You were so tired last night that I doubt if you
heard a word I said, although I thought I was making a great
impression in my new role as a business woman. I asked father to
give me the ranch, not because I wanted to own it but to save you
from your madness. The cattle are all mine now and I leave them in
your care. Whatever you do I will consent to, if you will leave
your guns at home. Is that too much for a friend to ask? I know
that Mr. Creede is your friend too, and I admire your devotion to
his cause, but I think you can do just as much for him and more by
not risking your life in a battle against the sheep. They are so
many, Rufus, and they have their rights, too. Father is confident
that the Forest Reserve will be declared next Winter and then the
sheep will be debarred forever. Can't you give over the fight for
my sake? And I will pay you any price--I will do anything you ask;
but if you should be killed or kill some other man, I could never
be happy again, though I gained the whole world. Dear Rufus,
please--but I leave it for you to decide--"

The note ended abruptly, it was not even signed, and Hardy could
imagine the agitation in which it was written. Dear little Lucy,
always thinking of others, always considerate, always honest and
reasonable. If only Kitty--But no--in her own right as Queen of Love
and of his heart, she was above all criticism and blame. It was a
madness, deeper than his anger against the sheep, mightier than his
fiercest resentment--he could not help it; he loved her. Changeable,
capricio