her eyes straight ahead, looking at 

 something within, her hands clasped 

 tightly in her lap. How had she 

 got there? 



"He's dead. I never saw one. 

 He's there now." 



She shot a sidelong glance at me 



"Where?" 



"Over there," giving her right 

 shoulder a hitch in the direction of 

 Main Street. 



"Wouldn't you like to see him?" 

 She questioned in the same sup- 

 pressed tone. Most assuredly I would 

 not, but before I could say so she 

 went on. 



'They took him there this morn- 

 ing. He shot hisself yesterday. He 

 lived next ranch and I want to 

 see him. I can't go alone. Been 



trying to . Now will you come ? ' ' 



She had risen and for a moment an 

 eager look chased away the strained 

 one. 



"Why did he " She inter^ 



rupted me. 



"He's a widower. She's gone 

 about a year. His step-daughter 

 kept house for him, and folks say 

 well she's come to no good end, and 



