eathed Marylyn. "Books!"

"All I had, but maybe you'll like 'em. They're love stories."

The shadow beyond the firelight claimed her again.

From the lean-to came the sound of Lancaster's voice. It was shrill with
anger. A great sadness came over the storekeeper. "I wish I could come
down often and look after things," he said. "You need another man
around."

There was a short silence. Then, "Dallas likes the work outside," she
answered, very low, "and driving Ben and Betty up and down."

He nodded. "But you?"

"I like to stay in and sew."

"'Stay in and sew,'" he mused. "That takes me back to the States. My
dear mother sits by the fire and sews. Ah!"--with big-brotherly
tenderness--"I hope you'll never have to do anything harder."

"Dallas won't let me work outside. She says she's the man."

Dallas--the man! Somehow it stung him. And then he heard the elder girl
pushing an armful of hay before the eager noses of the mules. He got up
quickly. "She is tending to those beasts!" he exclaimed. "Why, if I'd
'a' thought----"

She rose also, a wavering figure in the half light.

He picked up hat and coat, then halted. If he offered his help in the
lean-to, what would be his reception? He felt utterly hampered, and
began twirling his thumbs like a bashful cowboy. Moreover, Lancaster had
been gone a good while. Was his absence a hint for his visitor to go?

The storekeeper went up to Marylyn. "Good-by," he said. "I must be
hiking along."

She put a trembling hand in his.

The latch clicked behind them, and the section-boss entered. Again the
younger girl started, and consciously.

Lancaster banged the door and looked them over. "Huh!" he snorted
meaningly. So--he had misled himself with the idea that Lounsbury had
come to pry into the matter of the claim. And all the while, underneath,
the storekeeper had had another object!

He jerked at a bench, dropped upon it and flung his crutches down.

The other saw the look and heard the sniff. He believed they arose from
the fact that he was still there. "Just going, Lancaster," he said. "So
long."

"S' long."

"Good-by, Miss Marylyn. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year." He gave
her a hearty smile.

"Good-by." She opened the door for him.

John Lounsbury passed out, regretting that he had been unwelcome;
indignant that the section-boss had misjudged his interest in the
ownership of the claim. But he would have been astounded if he had known
the real nature o