The flame died down until upon the coals lay a thin, curling film of carbon. Grannis shifted in his seat. "Nevertheless," he commented indifferently, "you've done a foolish act." A pause; then he went on deliberately as before. "You've destroyed the only evidence that proves you Rankin's son." Involuntarily Blair stiffened, seeming about to speak. But he did not. Instead, he closed the stove and resumed his former seat. "By the way," he digressed, "I just received a letter from Scotty Baker. I wrote him some time ago about--Mr. Rankin. He answered from England." Grannis made no comment, and, the conversation being obviously at an end, after a bit he rose, and with a taciturn "Good-night," left the room. * * * * * Days and weeks passed. The dead rigor of Winter gave way to traces of Spring. On the high places the earth began to turn brown, the buffalo grass to peep into view. By day the water slushed under the feet of the cattle, and ran merrily in the draws of the rolling country. By night it froze into marvellous frost-work; daintier and more intricate of pattern than any made by man. Overhead, flocks of wild ducks in irregular geometric patterns sailed north at double the speed of express trains. With their mellow "Honk--honk," sweetest sound of all to a frontiersman's ears, harbingers of Spring indeed, far above the level of the ducks, amid the very clouds themselves, the geese, in regular triangles, winged their way toward the snow-lands. At first they seemed to pass only by day; then, as the season advanced, the nights were melodious with the sound of their voices. Themselves invisible, far below on the surface of earth the swish of their migratory wings sounded so distinctly that to a listening human ear it almost seemed it were a troop of angels passing overhead. After them came the myriad small birds of the prairie,--the countless flocks of blackbirds, whose "fl-ee-ce," in continuous chorus filled all the daylight hours; the meadow-larks, singly or in pairs, announcing their arrival with a guttural "tuerk" and a saucy flit of the tail, or admonishing "fill your tea-kettle, fill your tea-kettle" with a persistence worthy a better cause. Ere this the earth was bare and brown. The chatter of the snow streams had ceased. In the high places, on southern slopes, there was even a suggestion of green. At last, on the sunny side of a knoll, there peeped forth the blue face of an anemone. The following day it had several companions. Within a week a very army of blue had arrived, stood erect at attention so far as the eye could reach and beyond. No longer was there a doubt of the season. Not precursors of Spring, but Spring itself had come.