The dogs came back to Mackenzie's side, where they sat with ears lifted, but with no expression of hostility or alarm in their bearing now. They were only curious, as their master was curious, waiting to see if the wandering singer would come on into camp. There was no glow of lantern to guide her, and no moon, but she came straight for where Mackenzie sat. A little way off she stopped. "Hello!" she hailed, as if uncertain of her welcome. Mackenzie requested her to come on, lighting the lantern which he had ready to hand. Mrs. Carlson hesitated, drawing back a little when she saw his face. "I thought it was Earl," she said. "Earl's not here tonight. Sit down and rest yourself, Mrs. Carlson. You don't remember me?" "I remember. You are the man who cut my chain." "I thought you'd forgotten me." "No, I do not forget so soon. A long time I wanted to kill you for the blow you gave Swan that night." "As long as Swan was good to you," said he, "of course you would. How do you feel about it now?" "I only cry now because he did not die. He was different a little while after he got well, but again he forgets. He beats me; he leaves me alone with the sheep." "I knew he was beating you again," Mackenzie nodded, confirming his speculation of a little while before. "Sheep!" said she. "Swan thinks only of sheep; he is worse since he bought Hall's flock. It is more than I can endure!" Mrs. Carlson was worried and worn, fast losing all she had gained in flesh and color during Swan's period of kindness when she had thrown herself into his wild ways and ridden the range like a fighting woman at his side. Much of her comeliness remained in her sad face and great, luminous, appealing eyes, for it was the comeliness of melancholy which sorrow and hard usage refined. She would carry her grace with her, and the pale shred of her youthful beauty, down to the last hard day. But it was something that Swan was insensible to; it could not soften his hand toward her, nor bend his wild thoughts to gentleness. Now he had denied her again the little share he had granted her in his wild life, and must break the thing he had made, going his morose way alone. "I hadn't heard he'd bought Hall's sheep," Mackenzie said. "Is he going to run them on this range?" "No, he says I shall go there, where the wolves are many and bold, even by daylight, to watch over them. There I would be more alone than here. I cannot go, I cannot go! Let him kill me, but I will not go!" "He's got a right to hire a man to run them; he can afford it."