She interrupted sharply: "Don't, Bowers, don't!" Understanding grew in his troubled eyes as he looked at her quivering chin and mouth. "So that was it!" he reflected. Thick volumes of smoke rolled up from the engine attached to the mixed train that stood on the side-track which paralleled the shipping corrals at Prouty, to sink again in the heavy atmosphere presaging a storm. The clouds were leaden and sagged with the weight of snow about to fall. Teeters's cattle bawled in the three front cars and the remaining "double deckers" were being loaded with Kate Prentice's sheep. She had followed her early judgment in cutting down the number of her sheep for a hard winter and, in consequence, the engine had steam up to haul the longest stock train that had ever pulled out of Prouty. Bowers and his helpers were crowding the sheep up the runway into the last car when Kate rode up. She looked with pride at the mass of broad woolly backs as she sat with her arms folded on the saddle horn and thought to herself that if there were any better range sheep going into Omaha she would like to see them. She had made no mistake when she had graded up her herds with Rambouillets. Bowers saw her and left the chute. "Teeters is sick," he announced, coming up. Kate's face grew troubled. She and Teeters had shipped together ever since they had had anything to ship, for it had been mutually advantageous in many ways; but particularly to herself, since he looked after her interests and saved her the necessity of making the trip to the market herself. "Somethin' he's et," Bowers vouchsafed. "The doctor says it's pantomime pizenin', or some sech name--anyhow, he's plenty sick." "Where is he?" Bowers nodded across the flat where they had been holding the sheep while waiting for their cars. Kate swung her horse about and galloped for the tent where Teeters lay groaning in his blankets on the ground. Teeters was ill indeed--a glance told her that--and there was not the remotest chance that he would be able to leave with the train. "I guess I'll be all right by the time they're ready to pull out," he groaned. Kate made her decision quickly. "I'll go myself. You're too sick. You get to the hotel and go to bed." Teeters protested through a paroxysm of pain: "You can't do that, Miss Kate. It's a tedious dirty trip in the caboose." "I can't help it. I've too much at stake to take a chance. There's a big storm coming and I've got to get these sheep through in good shape. Don't worry about me and take care of yourself." The engine whistled a preliminary warning as Kate dropped the tent flap and swung back on her horse. Calling to Bowers to have the train held until she returned, she galloped to the Prouty House and ran up the stairs to her room, where she thrust her few articles in the flour sack that she tied on the back of her saddle when it was necessary to remain over night in town.