As it comforted them in summer heat with the grateful cool of its broad shadowing and the moisture gathered in its reservoirs of green, so it broke the lash and whip of stinging winds in winter, and even its stricken limbs sang a chimney song of cheer and warmth upon the hearth that pioneer hands had built in the long ago. Through the warp and woof of life in this house went the influence of that living tree; not as a blind thing of inanimate existence but as a sentient spirit and a warder whose voices and moods they loved and reverenced--as a link that bound them to the past of the overland argonauts. It stood as a monument to their dead and as the kindly patron over their lovemaking and their marriage. It had been stricken by the same storm that killed old Caleb and had served as the council hall where enmities had been resolved and peace proclaimed. Under its canopy the man had been hailed as a leader, and there the effort of an assassin had failed, because of the warning it had given. And now these two were thinking of something else as well--of the new life which would come to that house in the spring, with its binding touch of home and unity. They were glad that their child would have its awakening there when the great branches were in bud or tenderly young of leaf--and that its eyes would open upon that broad spreading of filagreed canopy above the bedroom window, as upon the first of earthly sights. "Ef hit's a man-child, he's goin' ter be named Ken," said the young woman in a low voice. "But be hit boy or gal, one thing's shore. Hits middle name's a-goin' ter be T-R-E-E, tree. Dorothy Tree Thornton," mused Parish as his laugh rang low and clear and she echoed after him with amendment, "Kenneth Tree Thornton." They sat silent together for a while seeing pictures in flame and coals. Then Dorothy broke the revery: "Ye've done wore a face of brown study hyar of late, Cal," she said as her hand stole out and closed over his, "an' I knows full well what sober things ye've got ter ponder over--but air hit anything partic'lar or new?" Parish Thornton shook his head with gravity and answered with candour: "Hump and old Jim an' me've been spendin' a heap of thought on this matter of ther riders," he told her. "Hit's got ter be broke up afore hit gits too strong a holt--an' hit hain't no facile matter ter trace down a secret thing like thet." After a little he went on: "An' we hain't made no master progress yit to'rds diskiverin' who shot at old Jim, nuther. Thet's been frettin' me consid'rable, too." "War thet why ye rid over ter Jim's house yestidday?" she inquired, and Parish nodded his head. "Me an' Sim Squires an' old Jim hisself war a-seekin' ter figger hit out--but we didn't git no light on ther matter." He paused so long after that and sat with so sober a face that Dorothy pressed him for the inwardness of his thoughts and the man spoke with embarrassment and haltingly.