There was a stir within, and Val, still pale, and with an almost furtive expression in her eyes, opened the door and looked out. “Oh, it's you, Polycarp,” she said lifelessly. “Is there anything--” “What's the matter? Sick? You look kinda peaked and frazzled out. I met Man las' night, and he told me you needed wood; I thought I'd ride over and see. By granny, you do look bad.” “Just a headache,” Val evaded, shrinking back guiltily. “Just do whatever there is to do, Polycarp. I think--I don't believe the chickens have had anything to eat to-day--” “Them headaches are sure a fright; they're might' nigh as bad as rheumatiz, when they hit you hard. You jest go back and lay down, and I'll look around and see what they is to do. Any idee when Man's comin' back?” “No.” Val brought the word out with an involuntary sharpness. “No, I reckon not. I hear him and Fred De Garmo come might' near havin' a fight las' night. Blumenthall was tellin' me this mornin'. Fred's quit the Double Diamond, I hear. He's got himself appointed dep'ty stock inspector--and how he managed to git the job is more 'n I can figure out. They say he's all swelled up over it--got his headquarters in town, you know, and seems he got to lordin' it over Man las' night, and I guess if somebody hadn't stopped 'em they'd of been a mix-up, all right. Man wasn't in no shape to fight--he'd been drinkin' pretty--” “Yes--well, just do whatever there is to do, Polycarp. The horses are in the upper pasture, I think--if you want to haul wood.” She closed the door--gently, but with exceeding firmness, and, Polycarp took the hint. “Women is queer,” he muttered, as he left the house. “Now, she knows Man drinks like a fish--and she knows everybody else knows it--but if you so much as mention sech a thing, why--” He waggled his head disapprovingly and proceeded, in his habitually laborious manner, to take a chew of tobacco. “No matter how much they may know a thing is so, if it don't suit 'em you can't never git 'em to stand right up and face it out--seems like, by granny, it comes natural to 'em to make believe things is different. Now, she knows might' well she can't fool _me_. I've hearn Man swear at her like--” He reached the corral, and his insatiable curiosity turned his thoughts into a different channel. He inspected the four calves gravely, wondered audibly where Man had found them, and how the round-up came to miss them, and criticized his application of the brand; in the opinion of Polycarp, Manley either burned too deep or not deep enough. “Time that line-backed heifer scabs off, you can't tell what's on her,” he asserted, expectorating solemnly before he turned away to his work.