the foothill trails to the thunder of many
accompanying hoof-beats, the old ranch became suddenly a place very
quiet and still and alone. Y.D. sat down in the corner of the big room
by the fire, and saw strange pictures in its dying embers. Zen....
Zen!... Transley was a good fellow, but how much a man will take with
scarce a thank-you!... Presently Y.D. became aware of a hand resting
upon his shoulder, and tingling from its fingertips came something akin
to the almost forgotten rapture of a day long gone. He raised his great
palm and took that slowly ageing hand, once round and fresh like Zen's,
in his. Together they watched the fire die out in the silence of their
empty house....

CHAPTER XI

Grant read the account of her wedding in the city papers a day or two
later. It was given the place of prominence among the Christmas Day
nuptials. He read it through twice and then tossed the paper to the end
of his little office. Grant was housed in a building by himself; a shack
twelve by sixteen feet, double boarded and tar-papered. A single square
window in the eastern wall commanded a view of the Landson corrals.
On the opposite side of the room was his bed; in the centre a huge
wood-burning stove; near the window stood a table littered with daily
papers and agricultural journals. The floor was of bare boards; a
leather trunk, with D. G. in aggressive letters, sat by the head of
his bed, and in the corner near the foot was a washstand with basin
and pitcher of graniteware. In another corner was a short shelf
of well-selected books; clothing hung from nails driven into the
two-by-fours which formed the framework of the little building; a rifle
was suspended over the door, and lariat and saddle hung from spikes in
the wall. Grant sat in an arm chair by the stove, where the bracket lamp
on the wall could shed its yellow glare upon his paper.

After throwing the sheet across the room he half turned in his chair,
so that the yellow light fell across his face. Fidget, the pup, always
alert for action, was on her feet in a moment, eager to lead the way
to the door and whatever adventure might lie outside. But Grant did
not leave his chair, and, finding all her tail-waving of no avail, she
presently settled down again by the stove, her chin on her outstretched
paws, her drooping eyes half closed, but a wakeful ear flopping
occasionally forward and back. Grant snuggled his foot against her
friendly side and fell into reveri