ght. I put my finger on my lips an' pointed to the
corner back of the stove where I'd put the shack door in front o'
little Barbie, an' then I motioned for 'em to drag the bodies out.
Monody was alive an' he had a satisfied grin on his face when I helped
to carry him out in the air. Jabez never moved, an' the boys lifted him
mighty tender--he'd been a good man to work for, spite of his queer
ways. The two men in the doorway were still gaspin', but the rest of
Brophy's gang had passed on as they had a right to expect, wearin'
their boots an' their guns hot in their hands. Brophy himself had his
neck broken, but his face didn't look bad. It was peaceful under the
lantern light.

As soon as they was all lined up on the side porch I took the shack
door down, but Barbie wasn't there. "Barbie!" I called. "Barbie, child!
where are you?"

"Here I am, Happy," answered a muted voice. "I'm in the oven. Can't I
come out now?" I opened the door to the big oven an' there she was,
wrapped in a coat an' all rumpled up as if she'd been sleepin'. "Who
put you in there, child?" I asked.

"A woman," she answered. "A woman with a soft, kind voice. She put me
in here an' she told me to go to sleep, an' I did sleep most o' the
time. When you'd all shoot together it would wake me up; but then after
a minute I'd doze off again, an' now it's gettin' daylight an' I'm
eight years old, an' I didn't get to see how it felt comin' on. Where's
my Daddy, an' are all the robbers gone?"

"A woman!" sez I.

"Yes, an' she had the kindest voice," sez Barbie. "Ain't she here now?
I want to talk to her. I've missed ol' Melisse something fierce--but I
never let on to Daddy. Where is Daddy, Happy?"

"You ask more questions'n an almanac, Barbie," sez I, tryin' to speak
easy. "I'm goin' to carry you in an' put you to bed, an' you can go on
dreamin' about your beautiful lady, an' then in the mornin' I'll tell
you all about what's happened."

My heart weighed about a ton in my breast as I carried the child into
the house with the gray dawn light drippin' over her an' the still form
of her father lyin' around on the side porch. I thought o' the mother
she hadn't never seen, an' I hoped that things was fixed so 'at that
mother could keep on comin' back now an' again to put a dream into her
lonely little heart like she'd already done that night; but I carried
her into her little white bedroom hummin' a dance-tune, took off her
shoes an' stockin's, covered her