and his face was anxious and troubled.

"Lancaster hasn't started for the land-office again," he said. Then,
after a moment's silence, "I've just about decided to go Bismarck-way
myself to-day. When you can, will you let me know how they are over
there?"

"Charles will keep me posted," answered the evangelist, "and I shall
send you any news by the mail sleigh."

"Thank you," said Lounsbury, simply. "Good-by." And at the noon mess he
was missing.

At the shack, the days were numbered slowly, for all their scant hours
of light. Sleep consumed most of the time. The rest was taken by the
meals, the chores and the effort of keeping warm. The line of
calico-covered books helped to vary the monotony. So did the visits of
Squaw Charley. But these were becoming more brief now. Not that
Lancaster made them unpleasant--Charley was necessary to him--but that
the Indian was always in a fever to be gone. Since the council, his eyes
were less downcast, his face was less stolid.

One day brought a totally unexpected visitor, whom Lancaster recognised
with some misgivings as the United States land-agent at Bismarck. The
section-boss was soon reassured, however. The agent said that, having
business near Brannon, and remembering that Lancaster wished to file an
entry on the bend when the first claimant's six months were up, he had
come by. In the case of a man who was hurt, he said, the law allowed
such a course. The section-boss, thus saved the arduous trip, signed the
necessary papers with a jubilant mark.

Then came Old Michael for a time or two. It seemed at first as if he
were to be a favourite. He could adapt himself with all the art of his
race. And before Lancaster he was intensely Southern in his views,
whipping the North in many a broguey strife. Until--it befell through a
slip of the tongue--a slip that sent him packing off. For he boasted
how, in '62, his freckled hands had helped in piloting the Federals to
Island Number 10!

It was an outcome that gave Dallas little concern. Marylyn was her
worry. The younger girl was listless, pale and moody. Now and then,
Dallas believed she saw a look of actual suffering in her eyes. Once,
awakening in the night, she heard her sob.

Marylyn was unhappy, and the thought made the elder girl desperate. This
led her to a plan: Lounsbury must be asked to forgive their father and
come again--must be told of Marylyn's confession!

Soon afterward a second worry presented itself, one f