o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?"

The withered hand lay still, the fingers clutching tightly a fold of
cotton cloth. Mother Douglas looked and closed her eyes. Leaning
close, when the song was finished, Belle saw that the grim lips were
trembling, that tears were slipping down the too calm face. With her
handkerchief she wiped away the tears, and sang again. The "Girl with
a Thousand Songs" had many Scottish melodies in her repertoire, and
the years had not made her forget.

At the last, the groping left hand reached painfully across, found
Belle's hand waiting, and closed on it tightly. Whenever Belle stopped
singing the hand would clutch hers. When she began again the fingers
would relax a little. It was not much, but it was enough.

In the kitchen Mary Hope moved quietly about, cooking supper,
straining and putting away the milk Hugh brought in. In the kitchen
Lance sat and watched her, and made love to her with his big eyes,
with his voice that made of the most commonplace remark a caress.

But that night, when Mary Hope was asleep and Belle was dozing beside
the stricken woman, Lance saddled Jamie and led Coaley home. And while
he rode, black Trouble rode with him and Love could not smile and beat
back the spectre with his fists, but hid his face and whimpered, and
was afraid.

For Lance was face to face again with that sinister, unnamed Something
that hung over the Devil's Tooth ranch. He might forget it for a few
hours, engrossed with his love and in easing this new trouble that had
come to Mary Hope; he might forget, but that did not make his own
trouble any the less menacing, any the less real.

He could not tell her so, now while she had this fresh worry over her
mother, but Lance knew--and while he rode slowly he faced the
knowledge--that he could not marry Mary Hope while the cloud hung over
the Devil's Tooth. And that there was a cloud, a black, ominous cloud
from which the lightning might be expected to strike and blast the
Lorrigans, he could not deny. It was there. He knew it, knew just how
loud were its mutterings, knew that it was gathering swiftly, pushing
up over the horizon faster than did the storm of the morning.

He would not put Coaley down the Slide trail, but took him around by
the wagon road. They plodded along at a walk, Coaley's stiffened
muscles giving him the gait of an old horse. There had been no urgent
need to take Coaley home at once, but it was an exc