come to count him as
of themselves. He had ridden the range with them; he had slept in their
shacks and cooked his meals on their tin stoves; and, besides, he was
Bill's chum. That alone was enough to give him a right to all they
owned. He was theirs, and they were only beginning to take full pride in
him when he passed out from them, leaving an emptiness in their life new
and unexplained. No man in that country had ever shown concern for them,
nor had it occurred to them that any man could, till The Pilot came.
It took them long to believe that the interest he showed in them was
genuine and not simply professional. Then, too, from a preacher they
had expected chiefly pity, warning, rebuke. The Pilot astonished them
by giving them respect, admiration, and open-hearted affection. It was
months before they could get over their suspicion that he was humbugging
them. When once they did, they gave him back without knowing it all the
trust and love of their big, generous hearts. He had made this world new
to some of them, and to all had given glimpses of the next. It was no
wonder that they stood in dumb groups about the house where the man, who
had done all this for them and had been all this to them lay dead.

There was no demonstration of grief. The Duke was in command, and his
quiet, firm voice, giving directions, helped all to self-control. The
women who were gathered in the middle room were weeping quietly. Bill
was nowhere to be seen, but near the inner door sat Gwen in her chair,
with Lady Charlotte beside her, holding her hand. Her face, worn with
long suffering, was pale, but serene as the morning sky, and with not a
trace of tears. As my eye caught hers, she beckoned me to her.

"Where's Bill?" she said. "Bring him in."

I found him at the back of the house.

"Aren't you coming in, Bill?" I said.

"No; I guess there's plenty without me," he said, in his slow way.

"You'd better come in; the service is going to begin," I urged.

"Don't seem as if I cared for to hear anythin' much. I ain't much used
to preachin', anyway," said Bill, with careful indifference, but he
added to himself, "except his, of course."

"Come in, Bill," I urged. "It will look queer, you know," but Bill
replied:

"I guess I'll not bother," adding, after a pause: "You see, there's them
wimmin turnin' on the waterworks, and like as not they'd swamp me sure."

"That's so," said Hi, who was standing near, in silent sympathy with his
frien