reason of his own, and, even in her grief,
she would not pain him by asking another. She could feel that he
suffered as she did, and he seemed, moreover, to be pitifully and
strangely frightened.

When Follett came riding back that evening he saw that Prudence had been
troubled. The candle-light showed sadness in her dark eyes and in the
weighted corners of her mouth. He was moved to take her in his arms and
soothe her as he had seen mothers do with sorry little children. But
instead of this he questioned her father sharply when their corn-husk
mattresses had been put before either side of the fireplace for the
night. The little man told him frankly the cause of her grief. There was
something compelling in the other's way of asking questions. When the
thing had been made plain, Follett looked at him indignantly.

"Do you mean to say you let her go on thinking that about herself?"

"I told her that her father and mother had been rightly married."

"Didn't she think you were fooling her in some way?"

"I--I can't be sure--"

"She _must_ have, or she wouldn't be so down in the mouth now. Why
didn't you tell her the truth?"

"If only--if only she could go on thinking I am her father--only a
little while--"

Follett spoke with the ring of a sudden resolution in his voice.

"Now I'll tell you one thing, Mister man, something has got to be done
by _some one_. I can't do it because I'm tied by a promise, and so I
reckon you ought to!"

"Just a little time! Oh, if you only knew how the knives cut me on every
side and the fires burn all through me!"

"Well, think of the knives cutting that girl,--making her believe she
has to be ashamed of her mother. You go to sleep now, and try to lie
quiet; there ain't anything here to hurt you. But I'll tell you one
thing,--you've got to toe the mark."

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

_The Mission Service in Box Canon is Suspended_

Follett waited with a new eagerness next day for their walk to the
canon. But Prudence, looking at him with eyes that sorrow was clouding,
said that she could not go. He felt a sharp new resentment against the
man who was letting her suffer rather than betray himself, and he again
resolved that this man must be made to "toe the mark," to "take his
needings;" and that, meantime, the deceived girl must be effectually
reassured. Something must be said to take away the hurt that was tugging
at the corners of her smile to draw them down. To this end he plead