name of the woman I am going to see?"

"Now, just look at that! If I haven't forgot her name I'm the biggest
fool on earth. Did you ever see anythin' like that? If that confounded
John, the hired man, was here, he'd know. I'm almost sorry now that I
licked him. But if I ever ketch him again I'll give it to him for
treatin' me this way when I need him. Well, go on, and stop at the house
I told you. And if that horse don't want to go, lick the life out of
him."

Milford drove off, and the dog jumped over the fence and came trotting
along behind the buggy. It did not take long to reach the place. A man
came to the door in answer to Milford's knock. There was no attempt to
soften the news. "I came to tell you that old Mr. Lewson is dead," said
Milford. And there was no effort on the man's part to show surprise.
"Well, I'm not an undertaker," he replied.

"But you married his daughter."

"But not with his consent or good-will. He was nothing to us. Well," he
added, as Milford continued to stand there, "anything else?"

"Yes, just a word or two more. I want to tell you that you are a brute
and a coward; and if you'll just step out here I'll mop up the ground
with you."

The man stepped back and shut the door. Milford came away, the muscles
in his arms hard with a desire to fight. He thought of the tenderness of
a mining camp, of the cowboy's manly tear, of hard men who were soft
toward a dead stranger. "Hearts full of cold ashes," he mused, bitterly.
"And how can it be in a place so beautiful? An infidel from the
sand-hills would here cry out that there is a God, an artist God. And
some of these wretches would teach him that there is a hell. Well, I'm
going to fight it out. I don't see any other way. I guess I'm a fool,
but I've got that thing to do."

Mrs. Stuvic tiptoed in her rage. "Horton," she said, almost dancing in
the road. "That's the scoundrel's name. And don't you dare to judge us
by him. He's a stranger here, too. I hope the hogs will root him up and
crack his bones. Well, go on to bed, Bill. I guess the old man can take
care of himself till mornin'."

Early the next day, the old man's daughter came, stricken with grief and
remorse. She said that her husband had forced her to treat her father
cruelly. She knelt beside the poor old relic of weary bones, and prayed
that the Lord might forgive her. Mrs. Stuvic relented. "Come," she said,
leading the daughter away. "We believe you, and won't hold it against