"Look at him," said Johnson in a tone almost reverent. "That there shiny feller's been following of me at nights now something ridiculous. If I ain't out on the range, I swan he comes loafing round the house. Honest." "I like 'em." "You do? I wonder what they are?" "Why, you mean to say you don't know? I'm surprised at you, Lafe. They're human souls seeking a lodging." He exploded into laughter. "Is that so?" said he. Facing to the front again, he fell to musing. "Is that so?" he repeated. "You're sure a wolf on souls, Dan." Hetty was on the porch to receive us. With her was Ferrier, big and straight and indolent. She bade me welcome with frank heartiness as an old friend, but there was distinct coldness in her greeting of Lafe. I could not but observe it. When he would have kissed her, she turned her cheek to him; she submitted even to this with evident reluctance. A tiff--a doting couple's tiff--I concluded, and engaged Ferrier in conversation. He had scarcely a word to say, and walked beside me so lazily when we went to put the horses in the pasture, that my patience was sorely taxed. That was the way with soldiers, I reflected--once a soldier, never any good for anything else. Yet what little he uttered contradicted this notion, for he seemed in earnest. Apparently Bob had been doing some hard thinking and he was determined to get a foothold on the broad, straight highway. As we were entering the house: "Oh, do be quiet. Let me alone. You worry me half to death. A lot you care what becomes of me. Here, you're off all day and sometimes long after dark, and I've got--" "Why, hon," Lafe was pleading, "I've got my work to do. You know I stay home every minute I can. Ol' Horne says I'm tied to your apron strings. What's got into you, Hetty?" "Nothing's the matter with me. For heaven's sake, shut up and let me have a little peace. I say you don't care what becomes of me. No, you don't. Here, I've had a splitting headache and when I tell you about it, all you do is grin. Now, don't go and try to tell me you feel for me." "What do you want me to do? Cry on your shoulder? A man can't make a fuss over them things, Hetty." "There you go again--making fun of me. If I was to die to-night, nobody'd care--not even Bob. I wish I could die. You could go back to Paula then." "Hon," said Lafe, in a choked voice. Bob wiped his feet noisily on the steps and I coughed. When we entered, there was no trace of a dispute or of anger on Hetty's countenance. Supper was ready and we sat down to it with grand appetites.