irmed Pierce, with unaccustomed brevity, his mind at
dalliance with other matters.

"Ewing's kid," murmured the lady, as if in careless musing.

"Sure, Ewing's kid--Hi Mighty! I struck one o' them willow roots to-day,
on that piece o' ditch over on the west forty, an' say! it yanked me
clean over the plow handles. It did, fur a fact--straightened me out
like a whiplash. It scraped all the wall paper off'n this left shoulder
o' mine when I landed, too, say nothin' o' the jounce it give me. Ma,
whur's that embrycation fur man _and_ beast?" And Beulah laid a gentle
hand on the abraded member.

"After you've et a bite," called his wife from the next room. "Shane has
the things all on, so come along an' set up."

Beulah erected himself with an unctuous groan and spoke his favorite
jest: "Wa'al, le's go out an' see what the neighbors has brought in."

The meal over, Mrs. Laithe again found herself with Pierce in the living
room. She sat on the bearskin before the open fire, her hands clasped
about her knees. Through the dancing jets of flame she observed the kid
of Ewing with his downward, troubled face. Pierce, tucking shreds of
tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, glanced toward her, the light of
coming talk in his eyes.

"How'd you like that there little red roan you're ridin', Mis' Laithe?"
he began.

"Cooney? Oh, Cooney's a dear, generally. Sometimes he's stubborn and
pretends to know the way better than I do."

"Sound and kind, though, I bet you."

"Oh, yes; but when I want to ride down the east side of the valley, why
does he always try to go up that steep trail to the left? Sometimes I've
quite a struggle to keep him in the valley road."

"Wa'al, you see I bought him off'n Ewing's kid an' he wants to git back
home. Sure's ever we dast let him loose with the saddle band, he's over
to Ewing's place, come sun-up. You give him his head any time--he'll
carry you straight there."

"He will?"

"Surest thing _you_ know! When that kid breaks a pony he gits it all
gentled up so's it hones to git back to him."

"How interesting!"

"Naw--makes lashin's o' trouble fur them that buys off'n him. Say, Mis'
Laithe, you was askin' about Ewing's kid."

"Was I?" She looked politely blank.

"Sure you was--jest 'fore supper. Wa'al, Ewing's kid is the son of a man
named--now hear me _talk_! Course he's his father's son. Wa'al, anyway,
this man Ewing comes in here with this kid about fifteen, sixteen year
ago, an' takes th