f which the heart and soul had
been his mother. "It hurts to speak of these things for a while," she
added.

"Yes, my darling, I know," said her husband, his eyes lingering
tenderly upon the face looking so sweet, but so wan and pale above the
black dress and crepe collar. "We know, we know, darling," he repeated,
taking her in his arms. They were both thinking of the little mound
looking so small upon the wide prairie, small but big enough to hold
all their heart's treasure. For five months the manse had been
overrunning with heaven's own light; and with joy that rippled and
flowed from baby laughter, that lurked in dimpled fingers and dimpled
toes and dimpled cheeks, every dimple a well of light and joy--and then
the little mound with its white railing, and only the echoes of the
laughter and the memory of the dimpled fingers, toes, and cheeks,--and
the empty manse! It was this memory that made their welcome of Shock so
full of tender understanding. There is no speech like heart-speech, and
during the hour in the Big River manse to Shock's heart there came--how
he could not have told--the inarticulate message of sympathy that
healed and comforted, so that he drove away rested and refreshed as
with sleep. As they were hitching up the team Ike found opportunity to
whisper to Shock: "I say, p'rhaps you'd rather he'd go with you; he'd
help you more, p'rhaps?"

"No, no, Ike; don't leave me; I want you," Shock had replied.

"All right, boss; that suits me," was Ike's answer, glad that his offer
had not been accepted.

"Good-bye," said Mr. McIntyre, waving his hand. "Do not spare them,
Ike," he continued. "They can make Spruce Creek in two hours and a half
easily."

"I'll take care o' them," said Ike, swinging the fiery, half-broken
bronchos onto the trail. "They'd ought to do a little better than that,
I judge." And they did; for, when the buckboard drew up at the Spruce
Creek Stopping Place Ike remarked to Bill Lee, who stood in his usual
position leaning against the door: "Two hours from Big River, and not
much the worse, I guess."

Bill's welcome of Shock was almost effusive in its heartiness, but Ike
cut him short.

"I say, Bill," he called out, walking to the stable; "got any oats in
here?"

"Oh, a few. I keep some for thoroughbreds, you know." And he walked
after Ike into the stable.

Ike began talking rapidly and in a low tone. As Bill listened he became
unusually excited. "Eh! What! No. Say, that's bad,