"Well, you heard the news, I reckon," said he to his neighbors. Both men nodded. "Big Aleck told me he was working on the Government job. He said he was going on up with his team to help finish some roads." "Well, if it was him," said Wid Gardner, "or any one else, we're a-goin' to find out who it was done this. We been hearing a long while about the free Industrials, whatever the damned Bolsheviks call theirselves. They wander around now and won't settle. Hobos, I call them, no more, but crazy ones. They threatened to burn all the hay in the settlements below, and to wipe out all the wheat crop. Why? They been busting up threshing machines acrosst the range--the paper's been full of it. Why? They've got in here, and that's all about it. Well, fellers, you reckon we're goin' to stand fer this sort of Bolshevik business on the Two-Forks?" "I say, Pop," broke in Sim Gage to the postmaster, with singular irrelevance at this time, "haven't you got a litter of pups around here somewheres, and a couple hens I can buy? I'm lookin' fer a dog, and things." "Yard's full of pups, man. If you want one help yourself. But hens, now----" "Sell me two or three hens and a rooster or so. I promised I'd take 'em home, and I plumb forgot." Pop Bentley threw up his hands at his feckless neighbor. "You'd better be getting a _place_ fer your hens and dogs, seems like." Sim put a forefinger to his puckered lip. "I don't know as I want to take more'n about one pup now, and three or four hens. I'll fix up the price with you sometime. Yes, I got to be getting home now." The mail carrier, the postmaster and Sim's friend looked at one another as these details went forward. "Well," said Pop Bentley, shrugging his bent shoulders, "if you would go away and leave a woman alone in a place like that----" "What do you mean?" said Sim Gage suddenly. "Why, that woman ain't _there_ no more, you fool. She's gone!" "Gone? What do you mean?" "Whoever set fire to your place took her away, or else she's got lost somewheres." "Gone?" said Sim Gage. "Blind! You, Wid!"--he turned upon his friend half-savagely--"you was talking to me about acts of Providence. There ain't no such thing as Providence if this here's true. Come on--I got to get home." They did start home, at a gallop, Sim half unconscious of what he did, carrying in his arm an excited puppy, impetuously licking his new master's hands and face. In the bottom of the wagon lay a disregarded sack with a half-dozen fowl, their heads protruding through holes cut for that purpose. Sim never knew how or when they got into the wagon. At the next gate, that of Nels Jensen's homestead, Sim's neighbor below, the woman of the place came running. "You heard about it?--You're all burned out, both of you." "Yes, we know," said Wid, nodding. "Tell Nels to come on up to Sim's place early in the morning. We're going to get the neighbors together." Again the tired team was forced into a dull gallop.