"Well, I do an' then I don't. She's saddle stock, fur looks, that lady
is, but she ain't serious. No, sir! When her eyes is on me I know as
well's I want to she's snickerin' inside; makes no difference if her
face does look like it was starched. You'll find, when all's said an'
done, that she's plumb levitous, an' levitous folks is triflin'."

"Have you seen how sorrowful she looks sometimes, a sort of glad-sorry,
as if she felt sorry for herself and glad for other people? She makes
me feel old when she looks that way--as if I must protect her."

"Yes, an' other times she's stiffer'n Lot's wife!"

"Other times she seems older than all the world, a woman who has always
lived and always will."

"Well, son, when you git put afoot there, you write on an' I'll manage
to scare up a git-away stake fur you."

"It's wonderful to think of going out into the world that _they_ knew,
Ben--my father and mother. It seems as if they must be out there now,
and that I'm going to meet them very quietly and naturally some day. I
think it wouldn't astonish me."

"Look a-here, Kid! That'll be about enough o' _that_! You go to bed."

The other smiled a little wanly.

"I can't. I'm afraid to. I'm going to sit here awhile and think, and
when the moon gets up I'm going outside to think. The hills haven't
heard the news yet, and the trail over to the lake doesn't know about
it. I've got to spread it before I sleep. You see, when I do sleep, I'm
afraid I'll wake up and find it was stuff I dreamed."

"Shucks, Kid, what's the use o' talking like that? It ain't no dream.
It's true as God made little apples." There was, at the moment, a
noticeable relaxation from the speaker's habitual austerity. An awkward
smile of affection melted the hardness of his face as he held out a hand
to Ewing. "An' I'm doggoned if I'd be so _all-fired_ amazed if
everything come out fur the best. Yes, sir, blame me, Kid, if I don't
almost half b'lieve you'll make good!"

"You can bet I'll try, Ben!"

"That's right; you do your damndest--'angels can do no more,' as the
feller said."

As he lighted a candle his face was grim once more--savagely grim, even
as he sang, in going to his rest:

"Oh, 'twas on a summer's eve when I first _metter_,
Swingin' on the garden ga-a-ate!"

CHAPTER VII

TWO SLEEPERS AWAKEN

It now befell that the imminent adventure of Ewing should bring him a
double rapture. The day after Mrs. Laithe secretly played sp