the snow-cooled breeze.

They paused on the top of a hill, where, a few days later, a tragedy was
to be enacted. The agent said nothing, letting the panorama tell its own
story.

"Oh, it's almost overwhelming," said Helen finally, with a sigh.
"Sometimes it all seems so intimate, and personally friendly, and then
those meadow-larks stop singing for a moment, and the sun brings out the
bigness of everything--and you feel afraid, or at least I do."

Lowell smiled understandingly.

"It works on strong men the same way," he said. "That's why there are no
Indian tramps, I guess. No Indian ever went 'on his own' in this big
country. The tribes people always clung together. The white trappers
came and tried life alone, but lots of them went queer as a penalty. The
cowpunchers flocked together and got along all right, but many a
sheep-herder who has tried it alone has had to be taken in charge by his
folks. Human companionship out in all those big spaces is just as
necessary as bacon, flour, and salt."

The girl sighed wistfully.

"Of course, I've had lots of companionship at school," she said. "Is
there any one besides my stepfather on his ranch? There must be, I
imagine."

"There's a Chinese cook, I believe--Wong," replied Lowell. "But you are
going to find lots to interest you. Besides, if you will let me--"

"Yes, I'll let you drive over real often," laughed the girl, as Lowell
hesitated. "I'll be delighted, and I know father will be, also."

Lowell wanted to turn the car around and head it away from the hated
ranch which was now so close at hand. His heart sank, and he became
silent as they dropped into the valley and approached the watercourse,
near which Willis Morgan's cabin stood.

"Here's the place," he said briefly, as he turned into a travesty of a
front yard and halted beside a small cabin, built of logs and containing
not more than three or four rooms.

The girl looked at Lowell in surprise. Something in the grim set of his
jaw told her the truth. Pride came instantly to her rescue, and in a
steady voice she made some comment on the quaintness of the
surroundings.

There was no welcome--not even the barking of a dog. Lowell took the
suitcase from the car, and, with the girl standing at his side, knocked
at the heavy pine door, which opened slowly. An Oriental face peered
forth. In the background Lowell could see the shadowy figure of Willis
Morgan. The man's pale face and gray hair looked blurred