t see any reason he should know we've been prospecting round
his place."

Reaching the settlement they visited the hardware dealer, who remembered
having sold Jernyngham a small cheap cash-box about twelve months
earlier. On being shown the bent-up iron, he expressed his belief that it
was the article in question.

A day or two after the corporal's discovery, the mail-carrier left some
letters at the Prescott homestead, and when it was getting dusk Gertrude
strolled out on the prairie, thinking of one she had received. After a
while Prescott joined her and she greeted him with a smile.

"My team was looking a bit played out and the boys will be able to keep
the separator gang going as long as they can see," he said.

"Do you feel that you have to make excuses for stopping work, after
twelve hours of it?" Gertrude asked.

"Yes," he laughed; "I do feel something of the kind. There's so much to
do and the days are getting shorter fast."

He glanced at her with appreciation. She wore a thin, black dress made
after the latest London mode, which showed to advantage the graceful
lines of her tall figure; the Jernynghams, who seldom departed from an
established custom, changed their attire every evening. Gertrude had on
no hat, and the fading light shone into her face. It was finely cut but
cold, the features unusually good. She was a handsome woman, but she
lacked warmth and softness.

"I'm in a difficulty," she told him. "Perhaps you can help--you're a man
of many resources."

"I'll be glad to do what I can."

"We are expecting a visit from three old friends of ours who heard in
America of the trouble we are in and want to see us. What can we do with
them?"

"I haven't room," Prescott answered. "But let me think--Leslie has quite
a big house, and it's only three miles from here. Now that he will have
got rid of the harvesters, he might be willing to take your friends in.
He and his wife are pleasant people; but I think you met her."

"Yes. I knew you wouldn't fail us," Gertrude said gratefully. "But, after
all, I feel inclined to wish they were not coming."

There was an elusive something in her tone which did not escape
Prescott's notice.

"Why do you wish that?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, "it's difficult to explain, but we have got used to the
mode of life here: the few people we meet seem to understand our
feelings, and we have learned to trust them. Strangers would rather spoil
it all; in a sense, their