h a woman. Don't listen to a woman. Do the right thing. We should
have had a mother woman to talk to us. But it was no place for a woman!"

He rocked his head, as if from some old agony of mind, against the
tree-trunk.

"She was took bad suddenly one night, but it passed off. False alarm. I
was going to ride somewhere, but she said to wait till daylight. Someone
was sure to pass. She was a brave and sensible girl, but she had a
terror of being left alone. It was no place for a woman!

"There was a black shepherd three or four miles away. I rode over while
Mary was asleep, and started the black boy into town. I'd 'a shot him
afterwards if I'd 'a caught him. The old black gin was dead the week
before, or Mary would a' bin alright. She was tied up in a bunch with
strips of blanket and greenhide, and put in a hole. So there wasn't even
a gin near the place. It was no place for a woman!

"I was watchin' the road at daylight, and I was watchin' the road at
dusk. I went down in the hollow and stooped down to get the gap agen the
sky, so's I could see if anyone was comin' over.... I'd get on the horse
and gallop along towards the town for five miles, but something would
drag me back, and then I'd race for fear she'd die before I got to the
hut. I expected the doctor every five minutes.

"It come on about daylight next morning. I ran back'ards and for'ards
between the hut and the road like a madman. And no one come. I was
running amongst the logs and stumps, and fallin' over them, when I saw
a cloud of dust agen sunrise. It was her mother an' sister in the
spring-cart, an' just catchin' up to them was the doctor in his buggy
with the woman I'd arranged with in town. The mother and sister was
staying at the town for the night, when they heard of the black boy. It
took him a day to ride there. I'd 'a shot him if I'd 'a caught him ever
after. The doctor'd been on the drunk. If I'd had the gun and known she
was gone I'd have shot him in the buggy. They said she was dead. And the
child was dead, too.

"They blamed me, but I didn't want her to come; it was no place for a
woman. I never saw them again after the funeral. I didn't want to see
them any more."

He moved his head wearily against the tree, and presently drifted on
again in a softer tone--his eyes and voice were growing more absent and
dreamy and far away.

"About a month after--or a year, I lost count of the time long ago--she
came back to me. At first she'd come in