Trailey was blinking his eyes in the two-candle-power radiance. With podgy fingers, fat like a baby's, he gently pressed his eyelids before looking round the tent. Then, noticing the bed, with Bert on it, he replied: "No, I didn't see anybody being killed. I heard some man say it was one of those coyote things that belong to the prairies. Shocking cry, wasn't it? Nearly frightened my wife and daughter out of their wits." "Positively ghastly," Bert rejoined. "Got on my own nerves a bit. Have a drink," and he proffered the flask at arm's length. With not the least show of enthusiasm, Trailey regarded the flask and shook his head negatively. "No, thank you very much," he said, "I'm a total abstainer." "Jolly good idea--wish I was," commented Bert, helping himself to a little swig. Trailey sighed a plainly audible "Ah-h-h"--very deprecatory, and very prolonged. "Forgive my impertinence," he continued, when Bert had withdrawn the flask from his lips and tossed it to Sam with a muttered suggestion that it might as well be refilled; "but I heard you were starting for the Colony in the morning, Mr. Tressider. I wonder if you'd care to wait till we're ready--two or three days, perhaps?" "Ye--s, certainly--that is, of course, if Sam----" "My wife and daughter are a bit nervous," interposed Trailey, "though I don't see why they should be--having me with them. They say that Sam, here"--and he gave the little cockney a warm look of admiration--"is such an adaptable chap, that they'd really feel much more comfortable in their minds if they were travelling along with your wagon." Sam, who was filling the flask from a not-quite-full reserve quart bottle, grinned sheepishly at the outspoken compliment, which had been expressed utterly without guile. He had carried water from the river for the Trailey camp at odd times, besides cajoling their fire to burn, and doing bits of things for the horses. Like everyone else in camp, they had called him "Sam" from the very first. Bert looked at his diminutive partner less casually than usual. He was becoming convinced more and more that Sam really was a handy kind of fellow, and, in spite of not being a gentleman, extremely likeable. "That'll be all right, Sam, won't it?"--and, without waiting for a reply, turned and spoke to Trailey again. "We shall be delighted. We'll wait as long as you like. We're in no particular rush. How have Mrs. Trailey"--here Bert purposely assumed a slightly less solicitous air, which certainly deceived Trailey, though not Sam, nor himself--"and--er--your daughter stood the trip so far?" "Pretty well. A little tired, and uneasy, perhaps, wondering what's before them. You know what women are, Mr. Tressider?" and, as Bert indicated with a solemn nod that he knew all about women, and their emotions, Trailey sighed deeply and at some length, adding: "But we're in the Lord's hands, are we not?"