“You’re right he ain’t. And say, but he’s fond of his wife. Soon as he struck the ranch the old man butted out again into the blizzard to get her—slipped out before we knew it. The boys rounded him up wandering round the big pasture, and none too soon neither. All the time we had to keep herd on him to keep him from taking another whirl at it. He was like a crazy man to tackle it, though he must a-known it was suicide. Funny how a man takes a shine to a woman and thinks the sun rises and sets by her. Far, as I have been able to make out women are much of a sameness, though I ain’t setting up for a judge. Like as not this woman don’t care a hand’s turn for him.” “Why should she? He bought her with his millions, I suppose. What right has an old man like that with one foot in the grave to pick out a child and marry her? I tell you, Sam, there’s something ghastly about it.” “Oh, well, I reckon when she sold herself she knew what she was getting. It’s about an even thing—six of one and half a dozen of the other. There must be something rotten about a woman who will do a thing of that sort.” “Wait till you’ve seen her before passing judgment. And after you have you’ll apologize if you’re a white man for thinking such a thing about her,” the miner said hotly. Yesler looked at his friend in amiable surprise. “I don’t reckon we need to quarrel about Simon Harley’s matrimonial affairs, do we?” he laughed. “Not unless you want to say any harm of that lamb.” A glitter of mischief gleamed from the cattleman’s eyes. “Meaning Harley, Waring?” “You know who I mean. I tell you she’s an angel from heaven, pure as the driven snow.” “And I tell you that I’ll take your word for it without quarreling with you,” was the goodhumored retort. “What’s up, anyhow? I never saw you so touchy before. You’re a regular pepper-box.” The rescuers had brought food with them, and the party ate lunch before starting back. The cow-punchers of the C B had now joined them, both of them, as well as their horses, very tired with the heavy travel. “This here Marathon race business through three-foot snow ain’t for invalids like me and Husky,” one of them said cheerfully, with his mouth full of sandwich. “We’re also rans, and don’t even show for place.” Yet though two of them had, temporarily at least, been rescued from imminent danger, and success beyond their expectations had met the others, it was a silent party. A blanket of depression seemed to rest upon it, which the good stories of Yesler and the genial nonsense of his man, Chinn, were unable to lift. Three of them, at least, were brooding over what the morning had brought forth, and trying to realize what it might mean for them. “We’d best be going, I expect,” said Yesler at last. “We’ve got a right heavy bit of work cut out for us, and the horses are through feeding. We can’t get started any too soon for me.”