e room as soon as possible. The morning sun was
now pouring through the window, and the distraught look on the boy's
face touched her even more than the frankness of the words spoken in
the darkness. She suddenly remembered that he had been up all
night--for her. She would not deceive herself with the thought that it
was for her father's sake Dave had galloped to town, found a doctor,
secured a fresh team and driven back along the little-used foothill
trails. She recalled the doctor's terse description of that journey.
No doubt Dave would have done it all for her father, had her father
been there alone, but as things were she had a deep conviction that he
had done it for her. And it was with a greater effort than seemed
reasonable that she laid her fingers on his arm and said, "Thank you,
Dave."

"What for?" he asked, and she could not doubt the genuineness of his
question.

"Why, for bringing the doctor, and all that. Driving all night on
those awful roads. We fell off them in day time. I am sure I
can't--Father won't be able to--"

"Oh, shucks," he interrupted, with a manner which, on the previous
afternoon, she would have called rudeness. "That's nothin'. But say,
I brought home some grub. The chuck here was pretty tame; guess you
found that out last night." He looked about the room, and she knew
that he was taking note of her house-cleaning, but he made no remark on
the subject.

"Well, let's get breakfast," she said, after a moment's pause, and for
lack of other conversation. "You must be hungry."

Dave's purchases had been liberal. They included fresh meat and
vegetables, canned goods, coffee, rice and raisins. He laid the last
three items on the table with a great dissembling of indifference, for
he was immensely proud of them. They were unwonted items on the Elden
bill of fare; he had bought them especially for her. From somewhere
the knowledge had been borne in upon him that city people frequently
drink coffee for breakfast, and the rice and raisins were an
inspiration quite his own. He would see what she could do with them.
But she busied herself at the breakfast without a thought of the
epoch-marking nature of these purchases.

"Do you milk?" she asked, presently.

"Milk what?" he demanded, pausing with stove-lid and lifter raised in
his hand, in the half-completed act of putting wood on the fire.

"Dave!" she cried. "Put that lid down. Look at the smoke." A blue
cloud was curl