month. 'Sides, Ah kain't say whether this is Tuesday er Wednesday er
Thursday. Mar'lyn, d' you remember w'at day o' th' week it is?"

Marylyn left the farther window and walked slowly forward. As she halted
beside her sister, the latter put an arm about her tenderly and drew her
close. A change had recently come over the younger girl--a change that
Dallas had not failed to see, yet had utterly failed to understand.
Marylyn still performed her few tasks about the house, but with
absent-minded carelessness. Her work done, she took up the
long-neglected vigil at the windows, spending many quiet, and seemingly
purposeless, hours there--all unmindful that the beaded belt lay dusty
and unfinished on a shelf. Only by fits and starts was the shack
enlivened by her happy chatter. At all other times, she was wistful and
distrait. Now, as she answered her father, a faltering light crept into
her eyes.

"The last time Mr. Lounsbury was here," she said, hesitatingly, "it was
the 6th, and to-day is----"

"Ah c'n git it," the section-boss interrupted. After a moment's tallying
on his fingers, he sat back and clapped his knees in excitement. "W'y,
Dallas!" he cried, "th' day after t'-morrow's the end o' thet man's six
months!"

Dallas released Marylyn. "Yes," she said, watching the younger girl
wander back mechanically to the post she had forsaken; "and to-morrow
you ought to start for Bismarck. Maybe it wouldn't matter if you waited
a while before going; but as long as the weather's good, I think you
ought to go right off."

"Ah reckon," he replied, but not heartily.

And so, once more preparations for a trip were made. That night, when
all was ready, and Dallas and her father, having given the team a late
feed, were leaving the stable together, she spoke to him of her sister.

"There's just one thing that worries me about your leaving," she said.
"I don't know if you've noticed it or not, but Marylyn don't seem to be
feeling good."

"Y' think mebbe she takes after her ma?" ventured the section-boss.

Dallas nodded.

"No, no," he said, "she favours me, an' they's no need t' fret. They's
nothin' th' matter with her--jus' off her oats a leetle, thet's all."

The developments of the next morning swept every thought from Dallas'
mind save those concerning the journey. For, when it came time to
harness the mules, she found that Ben had unaccountably gone lame.
Whether his mate had kicked him, or whether he had sprained a leg