"Yestiddy," observed the section-boss, as he unfastened the tugs, "y' said it wouldn' matter ef Ah didn' go now." He was somewhat complacent over the outcome of the hitch-up. "I don't feel that way now," asserted Dallas. "Thet ol' man up at th' leetle ben' has hosses," he volunteered when they were again within the shack. "He took 'em to Clark's two months ago, and walked back." "Wal, how 'bout th' Norwegian over by th' Mountain?" "He keeps oxen. If a blizzard came up, they'd never lead you out of it." Then she was moved to make a suggestion which she felt certain, however, would only be denounced. "There are hundreds of horses and mules at Brannon. I could ask there for a team." Instantly Lancaster's ire was roused. "Thet's all Ah want t' hear fr'm you 'bout them damned Yankees," he said hotly. "An' Ah want y' t' remember it." "But you're wrong, dad." "Eh?" He turned upon her in amazed disgust. "You're wrong," she repeated gently. "We oughtn't to treat the soldiers as if they was enemies. Some day we'll be in danger here----" "Bosh!" "And then we'll have to take their help." He began to hobble up and down, working himself into a white heat. "'S long as Ah live on this claim," he said, "Ah'll never go t' Brannon fer anythin', an' they'll be no trottin' back an' forth. Thet ornery trash over thar is th' same, most of it, thet fought th' South, jus' a few years ago. Ah kain't forget thet. An' not _one_ of 'em'll ever set a foot in this house." After more hobbling, he burst forth again. "Ah tell y', Dallas, Ah won't _hev_' you gals meetin' them no-'count soldiers----" She smiled at him. "We don't want to meet any soldiers," she answered. "But there are women at the Fort--women like mother. It seems a shame we can't know them." "Y' mother raised y' t' be's fine a lady as any of 'em over thar!" "Maybe that's true. If it is, then they'd like us, wouldn't they? and we could have friends. I'm not thinking about myself--just about Marylyn." "You gals got each other. Meetin' th' women at Brannon means meetin' th' men. _An' Ah won't hev it!_" His voice rose almost to a shout. "I'll never speak to you about it again," she said. And her quiet acceptance mollified him. "M' gal, y' kain't think how Ah feel about them Yanks," he went on tremulously. "An' Ah want y' t' promise me thet whether Ah'm 'live er dead, y' 'll allus keep on you' own side of th' river." She glanced up at him quickly. "Do you mean that, daddy?" she asked, using the name he had borne in her babyhood. "Ah _do!_ Ah do!" "Then I promise." Her tone was sorrowful. "Mar'lyn?" The younger girl faced about slowly. "D' _you_ promise?" "Promise?" she repeated. "Yes,--I--I promise." Dallas knew that the trip to the land-office was impossible unless Lounsbury should chance along--which was unlikely, some weeks having passed since his last visit. Undoubtedly were he to come, he would help them. But would her father allow her to ask the storekeeper's aid? Probably not.