arge for the splendid figure of which they
were the instruments, were clasped upon her breast. Watching her, it
seemed to Lounsbury that she must have sprung as she was from the plains
one day--grave, full-grown and gallant.

Her father's voice broke in harshly. "_Ah_ didn' want she should plow,"
he protested. "Ah figgered t' git someone on tick, but seems like
Dallas, she----"

"We like it here," she interrupted, "because the air 's so cool, and
there's lots of grass." Then after bending to gather a purple flower,
she stepped back to the plow.

"You're planning to stay, then," said Lounsbury.

"Stay!" burst forth the section-boss. "Don' it look like it?"

Lounsbury made no reply, only smiled genially.

"Maybe y' reckon we-all ain't safe?" continued Lancaster. "Wal, th'
nesters 'roun' Fort Sully's safe 'nough."

The storekeeper pointed across the river to where a flag was flying at
the centre of the post quadrangle. "You're in sight of that," he said
simply.

The other snorted. Then, stifling a retort, he searched Lounsbury's face
with his milky-blue eyes. "Ah'd like t' ast w'y y' didn' tell me 'bout
th' track when Ah seen y' las'," he observed suspiciously.

The storekeeper gave a hearty laugh. "And why didn't you say you had
daughters?" he demanded.

Instantly a change came over the elder man. He darkened angrily. His
breath shortened, as if he had been running. Visible trembling seized
him, body and limbs.

Mystified, Lounsbury turned to Dallas, and saw that her eyes were
fastened upon her father imploringly. "No, no, dad," he heard her
whisper; "no, no."

The storekeeper hastened to speak. "Joking aside," he said, "the reason
is this: The railroad company wants the right kind of people to settle
on the land along the survey. It doesn't want men who'd file just to get
a price. So the story hasn't leaked much."

Lancaster was fumbling at his crutches. "Ah see, Ah see," he said
sulkily. Then, with an attempt at being courteous, "Come up t' th'
shack, Lounsb'ry. Y' brung good news; y' got t' hev you' dinner."

"I ate back there," said Lounsbury, dismounting; "but I'll stop off for
a while, just the same." As he slipped the reins over his horse's head,
Marylyn remembered the meal she had abandoned and started homeward. The
storekeeper, leading his mount, strode away beside her.

Dallas clucked to the mules.

"Ain't you comin'?" called her father. "W'y, my gal, you worked 'nough
this mornin'."

"I'l