of her need.

It was a story so common that the public has come to look at its
monotony instead of its pity. The old tale of an unhappy married
life--made so by a brutal, conscienceless husband, a robber, a
spendthrift, a moral coward and a bully, who failed to provide
even the means of the barest existence. Yes, he had come down
in the scale so low as to strike her. It happened only the day
before--there was the bruise on one temple--she had offended his
highness by asking for a little money to live on. And yet she must
needs, woman-like, append a plea for her tyrant--he was drinking;
he had rarely abused her thus when sober.

"I thought," mourned this pale sister of sorrow, "that maybe the
state might be willing to give me some relief. I've heard of such
things being done for the families of old settlers. I've heard
tell that the state used to give land to the men who fought for it
against Mexico, and settled up the country, and helped drive out the
Indians. My father did all of that, and he never received anything.
He never would take it. I thought the governor would be the one to
see, and that's why I came. If father was entitled to anything, they
might let it come to me."

"It's possible, ma'am," said Standifer, "that such might be the
case. But 'most all the veterans and settlers got their land
certificates issued, and located long ago. Still, we can look that
up in the land office, and be sure. Your father's name, now, was--"

"Amos Colvin, sir."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Standifer, rising and unbuttoning his tight
coat, excitedly. "Are you Amos Colvin's daughter? Why, ma'am, Amos
Colvin and me were thicker than two hoss thieves for more than ten
years! We fought Kiowas, drove cattle, and rangered side by side
nearly all over Texas. I remember seeing you once before, now. You
were a kid, about seven, a-riding a little yellow pony up and down.
Amos and me stopped at your home for a little grub when we were
trailing that band of Mexican cattle thieves down through Karnes
and Bee. Great tarantulas! and you're Amos Colvin's little girl!
Did you ever hear your father mention Luke Standifer--just kind of
casually--as if he'd met me once or twice?"

A little pale smile flitted across the lady's white face.

"It seems to me," she said, "that I don't remember hearing him talk
about much else. Every day there was some story he had to tell
about what he and you had done. Mighty near the last thing I heard
him tell w