eep in his own. Some day, when his fingers would be feeling for
LeNoir's throat, he would drink long and fully that sweet draught of
vengeance. He knew, too, that it added to the bitterness in his father's
heart to know that, in the spring's work that every warm day was
bringing nearer, he could take no part; and that was partly the cause of
Ranald's gloom. With the slow-moving oxen, he could hardly hope to get
the seed in in time, and they needed the crop this year if ever they
did, for last year's interest on the mortgage was still unpaid and the
next installment was nearly due.

As he was putting the finishing touches upon Lisette's satin skin,
Yankee drove up to the yard with his Fox horse and buckboard. His box
was strapped on behind, and his blankets, rolled up in a bundle, filled
the seat beside him.

"Mornin'," he called to Ranald. "Purty fine shine, that, and purty
fine mare, all round," he continued, walking about Lisette and noting
admiringly her beautiful proportions.

"Purty fine beast," he said, in a low tone, running his hands down her
legs. "Guess you wouldn't care to part with that mare?"

"No," said Ranald, shortly; but as he spoke his heart sank within him.

"Ought to fetch a fairly good figure," continued Yankee, meditatively.
"Le's see. She's from La Roque's Lisette, ain't she? Ought to have some
speed." He untied Lisette's halter. "Take her down in the yard yonder,"
he said to Ranald.

Ranald threw the halter over Lisette's neck, sprang on her back, and
sent her down the lane at a good smart pace. At the bottom of the lane
he wheeled her, and riding low upon her neck, came back to the barn like
a whirlwind.

"By jings!" exclaimed Yankee, surprised out of his lazy drawl; "she's
got it, you bet your last brick. See here, boy, there's money into that
animal. Thought I would like to have her for my buckboard, but I have
got an onfortunit conscience that won't let me do up any partner, so I
guess I can't make any offer."

Ranald stood beside Lisette, his arm thrown over her beautiful neck, and
his hand fondling her gently about the ears. "I will not sell her." His
voice was low and fierce, and all the more so because he knew that
was just what he would do, and his heart was sick with the pain of the
thought.

"I say," said Yankee, suddenly, "cudn't bunk me in your loft, cud you!
Can't stand the town. Too close."

The confining limitations of the Twentieth, that metropolitan center of
some d