“Not near. There is the Maltese Cross on the river, seven miles below, and the Seventy Seven about the same distance above.” “The Seventy Seven? Texas outfit? Pull in here last fall? Fellow name of Duffy run it?” She nodded. A curious conviction, based on less than nothing, arose in Rock’s mind. It couldn’t be--and still---- Absurd--of course. “And you don’t know who shot him nor why? Well, I suppose it isn’t my business. Only he might be my twin. He isn’t, but----” Rock stopped. He had very nearly spoken what was in his mind. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I only suspect.” Rock did not press for particulars. “It hurts you,” he said kindly. “I expect you thought a lot of him. But it’s done. Now, is there anything I can do?” “What can you do?” she cried, the first despairing note that had entered her voice. “Can you give back life? Can you----” She checked herself in the middle of the sentence. “Oh, I mustn’t be silly,” she said, after a moment. “It’s so useless. Only, it seems---- Ah, well.” She turned away. Rock closed the door behind them. The baby sat on the chair by the table, waiting patiently. “If you’ll put up your horse,” she said, “I’ll get some supper.” “Look here,” Rock said bluntly, “I’m foot-loose for the time being. Is there anything you want done? Anybody you want notified about this? My horses are fairly fresh.” She stood a second. “Oh, I’ve got to think,” she said. “No, not to-night. And there is no one, anyway. In the morning we may----” She turned to the kitchen stove and lifted a lid. It had gone down to a few charred sticks. Rock took that matter off her hands. He rebuilt the fire and noted empty water pails on a bench. “Get your water out of the river?” he asked. “No. There’s a spring by those willows to the right.” Rock found the spring, a small pool bubbling out of white sand, clear as crystal and cold as ice. He filled the pails and brought them back. The girl was peeling potatoes when he came in. Sliced bacon sizzled in a pan. Rock went to the stable by the river bank, unsaddled the three horses, took off his pack, fed and watered all four. When he reached the house again supper was on the table. They ate in silence. The sun filled the valley with the fire of its last beams. Bright shafts shot dazzling through the windows, a yellow blaze that grew red and then rose pink and faded into a pearly gray. Yellow-haired Betty laid down her spoon, slid off her chair, climbed on Rock’s knee, and snuggled her round face against his shirt. In two minutes she was fast asleep. * * * * * The girl, who had been sitting with her eyes absently on her plate, smiled briefly--a phantom smile that strangely transformed her face.