ful hand patting the dust into mounds, the
other squatted near by watching, a slant of white hair falling across a
rounded cheek. They did not heed the creak of the wagon wheels, but as
a woman's voice called from the tent, raised their heads listening, but
not answering, evidently deeming silence the best safeguard against
interruption.

Susan laid a clutching hand on Daddy John's arm.

"It's the children," she cried in a choked voice. "Stop, stop!" and
before he could rein the mules to order she was out and running toward
them, calling their names.

They made a clamor of welcome, Bob running to her and making delighted
leaps up at her face, the little girl standing aloof for the first
bashful moment, then sidling nearer with mouth upheld for kisses.
Bella heard them and came to the tent door, gave a great cry, and ran
to them. There were tears on her cheeks as she clasped Susan, held her
oft and clutched her again, with panted ejaculations of "Deary me!" and
"Oh, Lord, Missy, is it you?"

It was like a meeting on the other side of the grave. They babbled
their news, both talking at once, not stopping to finish sentences, or
wait for the answer to questions of the marches they had not shared.
Over the clamor they looked at each other with faces that smiled and
quivered, the tie between them strengthened by the separation when each
had longed for the other, closer in understanding by the younger's
added experience, both now women.

Glen was at the Fort and Daddy John rolled off to meet him there. The
novelty of the moment over, the children returned sedately to their
play, and the women sat together under the canopy of the tree. Bella's
adventures had been few and tame, Susan's was the great story. She was
not discursive about her marriage. She was still shy on the subject
and sensitively aware of the disappointment that Bella was too
artlessly amazed to conceal. She passed over it quickly, pretending
that she did not hear Bella's astonished:

"But why did you get married at Humboldt? Why didn't you wait till you
got here?"

It was the loss of David that she made the point of her narrative,
anxiously impressing on her listener their need of going on. She stole
quick looks at Bella, watchful for the first shade of disapprobation,
with all Low's arguments ready to sweep it aside. But Bella, with
maternal instincts in place of a comprehensive humanity, agreed that
Low had done right. Nature, in the be