n the dog," explained Tess, resuming her seat
beside Daddy Skinner who was stretched, dying, on her cot. She had moved
him from the back room into the warm kitchen, and at that moment he was
sleeping restlessly. The sight of his working face brought a quick hand
to Tessibel's lips, and her white teeth set deeply into the upraised
knuckles to help stifle the groans. Every trouble of her own sank into
insignificance before the calamity facing her. Many times Tess had
viewed death afar off, but not until the past three days had it
threatened her own loved ones. In that hour she was experiencing the
extremity of sorrow, and each aching nerve in her body seemed to possess
a stabbing volition of its own, for again and again the torturing points
stung her flesh like whips.

For three long days she had managed somehow to uphold the dear, dying
father. No word had come from Deforrest Young, and Tess felt sure he had
returned twenty-four hours before. Perhaps Waldstricker had robbed her
of her dearest friend. Bitterly pained, the girl realized what the loss
would mean to her. Yet she had no censure in her heart for Deforrest
Young; indeed no bitterness for Frederick Graves; only a deep, deep
gratitude to the one, and a great, overwhelming love for the other. And
while thinking of what an empty void her life was becoming, Tess saw her
father's head turn and his lids lift heavily.

"Daddy!" she murmured, but if he heard, he did not heed. He was gazing
steadily at something over and beyond her head, and then he smiled at
it. In superstitious dread, the squatter girl glanced where the faded
eyes were directed. What had he seen? A face, perhaps, or the passing
shade that always haunted a squatter shanty when some one was dying, but
then, many times she, too, had seen faces in the rafters up there among
the dry nets.

"My pretty brat," were the words that brought her startled eyes back to
her father. Her throat filling with heavy sobs, she went over and kissed
him stormily. The horny, stiff fingers gathered a few of her red curls
and drew them slowly upward until parched lips touched them, while tears
stole from under withered lids, and Tess cried out in sharp anguish.

"Daddy Skinner, I can't live without ye!" she moaned, cupping his face
with her hands. "Take Tessibel with ye; take 'er, please!"

She cuddled at his side, lifted one of his heavy arms and put it around
her in pleading anguish. Just then it seemed as if it would put