extra trade. Rube and Seth offered no comment
outside their own house; but their opinion was worth considering.

"It won't hurt a heap this side of Christmas," Rube said, on learning the
decision.

And Seth pointed his remark.

"No, not now, I guess. Mebbe spring 'll see things."

These two had struck at the heart of the thing. It was late summer, and
history has long since proved that Indians never go out on the war-path
with winter coming on. Besides, Little Black Fox was not likely to be well
of his wound for months.

So the farmers went about their work again. Rube and Seth took in their
crops, and devoted spare time to building operations. And the district of
White River continued its unobtrusive prosperity.

The loss of Rosebud was no small matter to Ma Sampson's little household.
But these folk were far too well inured to the hard life of the plains to
voice their troubles. They sometimes spoke of her over their meals, but
for the most part bore her silently in their thoughts. And the place she
occupied with them was surely one that anybody might envy.

For Seth all the brightness of the last six years had gone out of his
life, and he fell back on the almost stern devotion, which had always been
his, toward the old people who had raised him. That, and the looking
forward to the girl's letters from England practically made up his life.
He never permitted himself the faintest hope that he would see her again.
He had no thought of marriage with her. If nothing else prevented, her
fortune was an impassable barrier. Besides he knew that she would be
restored to that life--"high-life," was his word--to which she properly
belonged. He never thought or hinted to himself that she would forget
them, for he had no bitterness, and was much too loyal to think of her
otherwise than as the most true-hearted girl. He simply believed he
understood social distinctions thoroughly.

But if he were slow in matters of love, it was his only sloth. In action
he was swift and thorough, and his perception in all matters pertaining to
the plainsman's life was phenomenal.

It was this disposition for swift action which sent him one day, after the
troops had withdrawn to their new post, and the plains had returned to
their usual pastoral aspect, in search of Nevil Steyne. And it was
significant that he knew just when and where to find his man.

He rode into a clearing in the woods down by the river. The spot was about
a mile belo