volunteered a preoccupied explanation:

"I've been learning to do this all winter, and I'm going to do it
right."

And even then it was less an excuse for her abruptness than the
announcement of a compact with herself, steadfast, almost grim.

After supper they sat by the fire, silent with fatigue, the scent of
the men's tobacco on the air, the girl, with her hands clasping her
knees, looking into the flames. In the shadows behind the old servant
moved about. They could hear him crooning to the mules, and then catch
a glimpse of his gnomelike figure bearing blankets from the wagon to
the tent. There came a point where his labors seemed ended, but his
activity had merely changed its direction. He came forward and said to
the girl,

"Missy, your bed's ready. You'd better be going."

She gave a groan and a movement of protest under which was the hopeless
acquiescence of the conquered:

"Not yet, Daddy John. I'm so comfortable sitting here."

"There's two thousand miles before you. Mustn't get tired this early.
Come now, get up."

His manner held less of urgence than of quiet command. He was not
dictatorial, but he was determined. The girl looked at him, sighed,
rose to her knees, and then made a last appeal to her father:

"Father, _do_ take my part. Daddy John's too interfering for words!"

But her father would only laugh at her discomfiture.

"All right," she said as she bent down to kiss him. "It'll be your
turn in just about five minutes."

It was an accurate prophecy. The tent flaps had hardly closed on her
when Daddy John attacked his employer.

"Goin' now?" he said, sternly.

The doctor knew his fate, and like his daughter offered a spiritless
and intimidated resistance.

"Just let me finish this pipe," he pleaded.

Daddy John was inexorable:

"It's no way to get cured settin' round the fire puffin' on a pipe."

"Ten minutes longer?"

"We'll roll out to-morrer at seven."

"Daddy John, go to bed!"

"I got to see you both tucked in for the night before I do. Can't
trust either of you."

The doctor, beaten, knocked the ashes out of his pipe and rose with
resignation.

"This is the family skeleton," he said to the young men who watched the
performance with curiosity. "We're ground under the heel of Daddy
John."

Then he thrust his hand through the old servant's arm and they walked
toward the wagon, their heads together, laughing like a pair of boys.

A few minutes later th