r for all of us," she said. "That, however, is not the
question. What are we to do when we are turned out of the ranch, as we
shall be very shortly?"

"There is," said Townshead, "no use in anticipating unpleasant
probabilities. We will in the first place go down to Vancouver, where
I fancy you will be able to earn a moderate sum by typewriting. The
use of the instrument is, I understand, readily acquired, and while I
regret the necessity for a daughter of mine to follow such an
occupation, the emolument appears to be reasonable."

Nellie Townshead smiled somewhat bitterly, for the fact that she had
ridden after straying cattle, and done a good many things that women do
not usually undertake upon the ranch, had apparently escaped her
father's attention.

"But is there anything you could do in Vancouver? You have no great
knowledge of business," she said.

Townshead smiled wryly. "It is," he said, "a pity that I have so much,
because on the two occasions I took an interest in it I lost a good
deal of money. There is nothing for me to do here, at least. I cannot
chop big trees."

"No," said the girl. "But have you nothing in contemplation?"

Townshead shook his head as though he were tired of the subject. "No,"
he said resignedly. "I have too much regard for my very indifferent
health to worry unnecessarily."

The girl sighed a little, and felt very helpless, knowing that the task
of maintaining both would devolve upon her and her brother. She was a
dutiful daughter, but she occasionally found it difficult to maintain
her respect for her father. Had he been beaten down after a stubborn
struggle she would with almost fierce loyalty have been proud of him:
but Townshead, who spent most of his time safeguarding his
constitution, had never fought at all. Conflict of any kind jarred
upon him. Answering nothing, she sat still listening, until at last a
tramp of horsehoofs became audible. Somebody was riding that way, but
there was another ranch farther up the valley, and her pulses throbbed
when her strained senses told her that the horseman had reached the
forking of the trail. If he passed on the blow she shrank from might
be suspended a little longer.

The man did not, however, pass by, but turned into the home trail, and
she rose with a little shiver when there was a knocking at the door. A
man stood outside it with a horse behind him, and a paper in his hand,
while his dress betrayed him as one