"I'm not thinking as much about sheep as I was three months ago," said Mackenzie, yawning as though he had grown tired of the subject. "Joan and I have made our plans; you can approve them or turn them down. We're going away when we're married." "Goin' away!" said Tim, his voice betraying the hollowness of his heart. "But we're coming back----" "Comin' back?" said Tim, gladness in every note. "Joan's heart is in the sheep range--she couldn't tear it away if she tried. She thought she wanted to go, but I'll have hard work to get her farther than Jasper. Joan had the lonesomeness; she's cured now." "She had, poor gerrel! I didn't see it, but I see it now. But you'll be comin' back!" "Yes. Joan and I belong on the sheep range--we're both too simple and confiding to run around loose in the world." Tim was looking at Mackenzie, his head tipped to one side a little in his great, new interest, his greater, newer understanding. "You'll come back and make it home?" said he. "Home," Mackenzie nodded. "There's no other place that calls. You can welcome us or turn us away, but we'll find a place on the range, and I've got money enough to buy us a little band of sheep." "No need, lad, no need for that. What I have I'll divide with you the day you come home, for I've made a place in my heart for you that's the place of a son," said Tim. Mackenzie knew the flockmaster had reached a point at last where he would stand, writing or no writing, for there was the earnestness of truth in his voice, the vibrant softness of affection. He gave the flockmaster his hand, saying no word. Tim took it between his own as if he held a woman's, and held it so while he spoke: "And the place is here for you when you come back be it a year from now or five years. You're a sheepman now, John." "And I'm more," said Mackenzie, with a contented sigh. "I'm a sheepwoman's man." End of Project Gutenberg's The Flockmaster of Poison Creek, by George W. Ogden