w it. He took
ten thousand dollars of your money, got from the Wonegosh farm he sold for
you. He--"

Cassy Mavor started forward with a cry, but Black Andy waved her down.

"No, I'm going to tell it. George lost your ten thousand dollars, dad,
gambling, racing, speculating. He told her--Cassy--two days after they was
married, and she took the money she earned on the stage and give it to him
to pay you back on the quiet through the bank. You never knew, but that's
the kind of boy your son George was, and that's the kind of wife he had.
George told me all about it when I went East six years ago."

He came over to Cassy and stood beside her. "I'm standing by George's
wife," he said, taking her hand, while she shut her eyes in her
misery--had she not hid her husband's wrong-doing all these years?--"I'm
standing by her. If it hadn't been for that ten thousand dollars she paid
back for George, you'd have been swamped, when the Syndicate got after
you, and we wouldn't have had Lumley's place, nor this, nor anything. I
guess she's got rights here, dad, as good as any."

The old man sank slowly into a chair. "George--George stole from me--stole
money from me!" he whispered. His face was white. His pride and vainglory
were broken. He was a haggard, shaken figure. His self-righteousness was
levelled in the dust.

With sudden impulse Cassy stole over to him and took his hand and held it
tight.

"Don't! Don't feel so bad!" she said. "He was weak and wild then. But he
was all right afterward. He was happy with me."

"I've owed Cassy this for a good many years, dad," said Black Andy, "and
it had to be paid. She's got better stuff in her than any Baragar."

* * * * *

An hour later the old man said to Cassy at the door of her room: "You got
to stay here and git well. It's yours, the same as the rest of us--what's
here."

Then he went down-stairs and sat with Aunt Kate by the fire.

"I guess she's a good woman," he said, at last. "I didn't use her right."

"You've been lucky with your women-folk," Aunt Kate answered, quietly.

"Yes, I've been lucky," he answered. "I dunno if I deserve it. Mebbe not.
Do you think she'll git well?"

"It's a healing air out here," Aunt Kate answered, and listened to the
wood of the house snapping in the sharp frost.

MARCILE

That the day was beautiful, that the harvest of the West had been a great
one, that the salmon-fishing had been l