“Yes, Martin,” and she gave his fingers a slight squeeze as though to convince him that she was there at his side. He felt relieved. It was good to feel her hand and be sure that if his body were to give its final sign that life had slipped away someone would be there to know the very second it had happened. It was a satisfactory way to die; it took a little of the loneliness away from the experience. “Rose,” he repeated. It sounded so new, the yearning tone in which he said it--“Rose!” It hurt. “Isn't it funny, Rose, to go like this--not sick, no accident--just dying without any real reason except that I absorbed the poison through a cut so small my eyes couldn't see it.” “It's a mystery, dear,” the little word limped out awkwardly, “but God's ways are not ours.” “Not a mystery,” he corrected, “just a heap of tricks; funny ones, sad ones, sensible ones, and crazy ones--and of all the crazy ones this is the worst. But, what's the use? If there's a God, as you believe, it doesn't do any good to argue with Him, and if it's as I think and there's no God, there's no one to argue with. But never mind about that now--it's no matter. You'll listen carefully, won't you, Rose?” “Yes, Martin.” “This abortion in the herd. You know what a terrible thing it is.” “I certainly do; it's the cause of your leaving me.” “Rose, I know you'll be busy during the next few days--me dying, the things that have to be arranged, the funeral and all that. But when it's all over, you'll let that be the first thing, won't you?” “Yes, the very first thing, if you wish it.” “I do. Get Dr. Hurton on the job at once, and have him fight it. He knows his business. Let him come twice a day until he's sure it's out of the herd. Keep that new bull out of the pasture. And if Hurton can't clean it up, you'd better get rid of the herd before it gets known around the country. You know how news of that kind travels. Don't try to handle the sale yourself. If you do, it'll be a mistake. The prices will be low if you get only a county crowd.” “Neighbors usually bid low,” she agreed. “Run up to Topeka and see Baker--he's the sales manager of the Holstein Breeders' Association. Let him take charge of it all--he's a straight fellow. He'll charge you enough--fifteen per cent of the gross receipts, but then he'll see to it that the people who want good stuff will be there. He knows how and where to advertise. He's got a big list of names, and can send out letters to the people that count. He'll bring buyers from Iowa down to Texas. Remember his name--Baker.” “Yes, Martin--Baker.”