Mrs. West sat quietly beside her, soothing her, gently touching her brow and hands. At length the quiet, regular respirations told her that Bess had fallen asleep. She softly folded a blanket about the girl; then, replenishing the fire in the grate, sat down to watch and wait until she should awaken. Once, when she could not hear a breath nor see the slight movement of the blanket, she hastily touched the unconscious form. The eyes opened for a moment, then, with a smile upon her lips Bess immediately relapsed into sleep. All night the woman watched, heedless of the chill creeping upon her, disregardful of her own great weariness. The dawn crept in at the window and peered into her white, careworn face, pointing a warning finger; then lifted it toward the mountain-tops and behold ’twas morning! With stiffened limbs Mrs. West arose, and leaving a tender kiss upon the girl’s hand, turned to leave the room. With the flash of a sun-beam shining into her eyes, Bess sprang to her feet just as Mrs. West reached the door. “Little Mother! Is it late? Why! I have not been in bed!” she exclaimed with bewilderment, as she saw that she was still dressed. “Do not hurry, dear. I—I just came in to make a fire, and to—to—see—if—you were—warm,” came with effort, as the woman held onto the door for support. Bess ran quickly to her. “Mother—Mother, what is it? See! you are cold,—your hands, your face! You have been here with me all night? Oh! why—why?” cried Bess, half beside herself. She almost carried Mrs. West across the hall into her room. Quickly she disrobed the shaking form and placed it in bed. She worked with all her strength, now hurrying with hot water, now rubbing and chafing the rigid limbs. For hours she labored unceasingly, but no relief came to the stricken woman. Mrs. White had been summoned, and together they worked, doing everything within their power and knowledge to relieve the sufferer. A physician could not reach the ranch before the next day, and Bess feared that he might then be too late. Oh, if Henry had only sent one of the men to make the drive to Selish instead of insisting upon going himself, she thought, as she went to the door at frequent intervals to see if he were coming. When he came and saw how ill his mother was, dire forebodings filled his mind. She did not know him as he sat by her side and spoke her name, but kept calling “Helen.” Bess would respond to the call and at once the woman would be pacified. For days Henry West and Bess attended the sick woman, relieving each other, that a few hours’ sleep might be snatched. Once when she called her son’s name Henry answered eagerly, “I’m near, Mother dear! Don’t you know me?” With great effort she lifted her pale, wan hand and gently touched his cheek with her fingers. Tears of joy that she knew him rushed to his eyes, but in a moment more she was again calling hopelessly for her son to come.