uit working." He kissed her gravely. "Poor old girl! She's
dead game, all right, and she's kind of had the cards stacked against
her from the start. But things are going to come easier from now on,
if I'm any prophet. It's too bad--"

Billy Louise read his thought.

"Mommie looked so peaceful, Ward. At the last, I mean. If I could
have waked her up, I don't believe I'd have had the heart to do it.
She never was very happy; you know that. She couldn't seem to see the
happiness in little things. So many are like that. And she looked
happier--at the last--than I ever saw her look before. So--I'm
happier, too--since yesterday."

"Are you?" Ward dropped his face against her hair and held it there
for a minute. It was not his cold altogether that had made his voice
break hoarsely over those two words.

"Do you know--" Billy Louise was lifting the nuggets one after the
other and letting them drop to her lap--"happiness is like gold, Ward.
We've got to pan it out of life ourselves. If we try to steal it from
someone else, we pay the penalty, don't you think? And so many go
looking and looking for great big chunks of it all--all--whatever they
do to it." She laughed a little at her ignorance of the technical
process. "You see what I mean, don't you? We get a streak of gravel;
that's life. And we can pan out happiness if we try--little nuggets
and sometimes just colors--but it keeps us hoping and working."

"Doctor of philosophy!" Ward kissed her hair. "You're a great little
girl, all right. And I'm the buckaroo that has struck a mighty rich
streak of pay dirt in life, Wilhemina. I'm panning out happiness
millions to the pan right now."

Billy Louise, attacked with a spasm of shyness, went abruptly back to
padding the makeshift crutches and changed the subject.

"I'm going home, soon as I fix you comfy," she said.

Whereupon Ward protested most strenuously and did not look in the least
like a man who has just announced himself a millionaire in happiness.

"What for?" he demanded, after he had exhausted himself to no purpose
in telling her that she should not leave the cabin until he could go
along.

"I want eggs--for you, you ungrateful beast. And some bread for toast.
And I want to tell Phoebe and John where I am."

"You think those Injuns are going to hurt themselves worrying? I don't
want any eggs and toast. I've managed all right on crackers and jerky
for six weeks, so I guess I can sta