r a pause during which she had swiped the dish-rag around the sides
of the pan once or twice, and had opened the door and thrown the water
out beyond the doorstep like the sloven she was. "I got a nephew that
wants to come out. He's been in a bank, but he's quit and wants to git
on to a ranch. I dunno but I'll have him come, in the spring."

"Do," urged Billy Louise, perfectly unconscious of the potentialities
of the future. "I hate to think of you two down here alone. I don't
suppose anyone ever comes down here, except me--and that isn't often."

"Nobody's got any call to come down," said Marthy stolidly. "They sure
ain't going to come for our comp'ny and there ain't nothing else to
bring 'em."

"Well, there aren't many to come, you know," laughed Billy Louise,
shaking out the dish towel and spreading it over two nails, as she did
at home. "I'm your nearest neighbor, and I've got six miles to
ride--against the wind, at that. I think I'd better start. We've got
a halfbreed doing chores for us, but he has to be looked after or he
neglects things. I'll not get another chance to come very soon, I'm
afraid; mommie hates to have me ride around much in the winter. You
send for that nephew right away, why don't you, Marthy?" It was like
Billy Louise to mix command and entreaty together. "Really, I don't
think Jase looks a bit well."

"A good strong steepin' of sage'll fix him all right, only he ain't
sick, as I see. You take this shawl."

Billy Louise refused the shawl and ran down the twisted path fringed
with long, reaching fingers of the hare berry bushes. At the stable
she stopped for an aimless dialogue with Jase and then rode away, past
the orchard whose leafless branches gave glimpses of the low,
sod-roofed cabin, with Marthy standing rather disconsolately on the
rough doorstep watching her go.

Absently she let down the bars in the narrowest place in the gorge and
lifted them into their rude sockets after she had led her horse
through. All through the years since Marthy had gone down that rocky
gash in search of Buck and Bawley, no human being had entered or left
the Cove save through that narrow opening. The tingle of romance which
swept always the nerves of the girl when she rode that way fastened
upon her now. She wished the Cove belonged to her; she thought she
would like to live in a place like that, with warlike Indians all
around and that gorge to guard day and night. She wished she had