d Marthy was here all solitary alone with him.
And--Ward! She dug that grave her own self, and took him up and buried
him--and, Ward! She--she wheeled him up in the--_wheelbarrow_! She
had to, of course. She couldn't carry him. But isn't it awful?" Her
hands were up, patting and smoothing the neck of his horse, and her
face was bent to hide the tears that stood in her eyes, and the quiver
of her mouth.

Ward drew in his lip, bit it, and let it go. He was a man, and he had
seen much of tragedy and trouble; also, he did not know Marthy or Jase.
His chief emotion was one of resentment against anything that brought
tears to Billy Louise; she had not hidden them from him; they were the
first and most important element in that day's happenings, so far as he
was concerned. He leaned and flipped the end of his reins lightly down
on her bare head.

"William Louisa, if you cry about it, I'll--do something shocking, most
likely. Yes, it's awful; a whole lot of life is awful. But it's done,
and Mrs. Martha appears to be a woman with a whole lot of grit, so the
chances are she'll carry her load like a man. She'll be horribly
lonesome, down here! They lived alone, didn't they?"

"Yes, and they didn't seem to love each other much." Billy Louise was
not one to gloss over hard facts, even in the face of that grave.
"Marthy was always kicking about him, and he about her. But all the
same they belonged together; they had lived together more years than we
are old. And she's going to miss him awfully."

Several minutes they stood there, talking, while Billy Louise patted
the horse absently, and Ward looked down at her and did not miss one
little light or shadow in her face. He had been alone a whole week,
thinking of her, remember, and his eyes were hungry to the point of
starvation.

"You saw mommie, of course; you came from home?"

"No, I did not. I got as far as the creek and saw Blue's tracks coming
down; so I just sort of trailed along, seeing it was mommie's daughter
I felt most like talking to."

"Mommie's daughter" laughed a little and instinctively made a change in
the subject. She did not see anything strange in the fact that Ward
had observed and recognized Blue's tracks coming into the gorge. She
would have observed and recognized instantly the tracks made by his
horse, anywhere. Those things come natural to one who has lived much
in the open; and there is a certain individuality in the hoof-prints of