At this appeal the child, who was a masterful little fellow, used to being treated as an equal by the men on the ranch, answered, "Sure." And as Diana came to him he leaned down, smiled, and said, "I like you." Diana smiled as she kissed him, and said, "And I love you, God bless you!" She could scarcely bear the look of pain in Jim’s eyes as they went from the boy’s face to hers, then back again to the boy. In silence they grasped each other’s hands, then Diana walked over to Bill, who tenderly helped her into the wagon. Jim was alone with his boy. There was much that he wished to say, but he dare not speak. He could see the wistful look beginning to return to the child’s face. "Good," he said, lightly. "And now be off." Close he pressed the child’s face to his lips. "There’s a brave boy—with a smile and hurrah!" How could he place the child in the wagon beside the waiting woman, whose face was turned away to hide her pain! His voice dropped low and almost broke. "Some day, when you have a son of your own, you’ll know what this means," they heard him whisper. "But no Wynnegate ever was a quitter, and so we’ll take things as they come." Still no one turned to him. Diana felt the child being lifted in beside her and the baby fingers fasten around hers. She turned her face to Jim, but almost savagely he called: "Drive on, and never look back." And Charley, who had remembered Bill’s words "to drive like hell," with a crack and a slap let the impatient animals go. The men started after the wagon. "Give ’em a cheer, boys," Jim cried, and the place rang with their shouts. Petrie and Sir John galloped alongside the wagon, with Grouchy, Andy, Shorty, and Bill following as fast as they could run. Cheer after cheer sent back its echo, while Jim stood alone listening as he watched the swaying, rumbling cart raise its cloud of dust, through which he could barely see the men still running and hear the faint echoes of their cries of "Good-bye, Hal." Like a symbol of broken hope, he stood, a solitary figure in the dreary, deserted place. His hands were still out-stretched towards the receding wagon. The deep-tinted, rose-colored rocks glowed more and more radiantly, until the blinding glare from the plains made Jim shield his eyes. "There they go"—he strained forward closer to watch the wagon—"down into the ravine—out of sight—and out of my life forever." As the dip in the land engulfed and shut out his last glimpse of the travellers, he dropped inert and clinched his arms over his head, while his heavy, dragging steps were the only sounds that broke the terrible stillness that had fallen over the yard. Almost mechanically he reached the bench and sank down upon it. Nat-u-ritch, from her hiding-place above, could hear the sobs that came from the crushed and broken man. *CHAPTER XXVII*