while the
Kingfisher made merry with his family, and rattled, feasting from Abram
Johnson's to the Gar-hole, the Black Bass sought its deep pool, and lay
still. It was a rare thing to hear it splash in those days.

The prickly heat burned until the souls of men were tried. Mary slipped
listlessly about or lay much of the time on a couch beside a window,
where a breath of air stirred. Despite the good beginning he had made
in the spring, Jimmy slumped with the heat and exposures he had risked,
and was hard to live with.

Dannie was not having a good time himself. Since Jimmy's wedding, life
had been all grind to Dannie, but he kept his reason, accepted his lot,
and ground his grist with patience and such cheer as few men could have
summoned to the aid of so poor a cause. Had there been any one to
notice it, Dannie was tired and heat-ridden also, but as always, Dannie
sank self, and labored uncomplainingly with Jimmy's problems. On a
burning August morning Dannie went to breakfast, and found Mary white
and nervous, little prepared to eat, and no sign of Jimmy.

"Jimmy sleeping?" he asked.

"I don't know where Jimmy is," Mary answered coldly.

"Since when?" asked Dannie, gulping coffee, and taking hasty bites, for
he had begun his breakfast supposing that Jimmy would come presently.

"He left as soon as you went home last night," she said, "and he has
not come back yet."

Dannie did not know what to say. Loyal to the bone to Jimmy, loving
each hair on the head of Mary Malone, and she worn and neglected; the
problem was heartbreaking in any solution he attempted, and he felt
none too well himself. He arose hastily, muttering something about
getting the work done. He brought in wood and water, and asked if there
was anything more he could do.

"Sure!" said Mary, in a calm, even voice. "Go to the barn, and shovel
manure for Jimmy Malone, and do all the work he shirks, before you do
anything for yoursilf."

Dannie always had admitted that he did not understand women, but he
understood a plain danger signal, and he almost ran from the cabin. In
the fear that Mary might think he had heeded her hasty words, he went
to his own barn first, just to show her that he did not do Jimmy's
work. The flies and mosquitoes were so bad he kept his horses stabled
through the day, and turned them to pasture at night. So their stalls
were to be cleaned, and he set to work. When he had finished his own
barn, as he had nothing else to d