The girl raised her head, her quick, rare instinct divining his unspoken thought, and something she saw in her old friend’s face brought just a hint of a smile to her own tearful eyes. She knew him so well. “You don’t mean that, Dad,” she said. “We just couldn’t do that. I had a letter from him yesterday offering us money, but you know we could not accept it from him.” And there the subject was dropped. They spent the afternoon together, and in the evening, at Sammy’s Lookout on the shoulder of Dewey, she bade him good-night, and left him alone with his flocks in the soft twilight. That same evening Mr. Matthews returned from his trip to the settlement. CHAPTER XX. THE SHEPHERD WRITES A LETTER. To purchase the sheep and the ranch in the Hollow, Mr. Matthews placed a heavy mortgage not only upon the ranch land but upon the homestead as well. In the loss of his stock the woodsman would lose all he had won in years of toil from the mountain wilderness. When the total failure of the crops became a certainty, and it was clear that the country could not produce enough feed to carry his flock through the winter until the spring grass, Mr. Matthews went to the settlement hoping to get help from the bank there, where he was known. He found the little town in confusion and the doors of the bank closed. The night before a band of men had entered the building, and, forcing the safe, had escaped to the mountains with their booty. Old Matt’s interview with the bank official was brief. “It is simply impossible, Mr. Matthews,” said the man; “as it is, we shall do well to keep our own heads above water.” Then the mountaineer had come the long way home. As he rode slowly up the last hill, the giant form stooped with a weariness unusual, and the rugged face looked so worn and hopelessly sad, that Aunt Mollie, who was waiting at the gate, did not need words to tell her of his failure. The old man got stiffly down from his horse, and when he had removed saddle and bridle, and had turned the animal into the lot, the two walked toward the house. But they did not enter the building. Without a word they turned aside from the steps and followed the little path to the graves in the rude enclosure beneath the pines, where the sunshine fell only in patches here and there.