and dwelling in a gentle, uninterrupted melancholy. She met his stare,
on this evening, with eyes clouded with tears.

Truly he had aged wonderfully in the past years.

The accident which robbed him of his physical freedom seemed, at the
same time, to destroy all spirit of youth. Whether walking or sitting he
was bowed. His eyes were dull. Beside his mouth and between his eyes
deep lines gave a sad dignity to his expression. And though, as his
cowpunchers swore, his hand was as swift to draw a gun as ever and his
eye as steady on a target, he had gradually lost interest in even his
revolvers. Indeed, what real interest remained to him in the world,
Marianne was unable to tell. He lived and moved as one in a dream
surrounded by a world of dreams. His eyes were dull from looking into
the dim distance of strange thoughts, and the smile which was rarely
away from his lips was rather whimsically enduring than a sign of mirth.

But as he looked down at her from the buckboard, Marianne saw his
expression clear to awareness of her. He even reached out and rested his
hand on her head so that her face was tilted up to him.

"Honey," he said, "you're eating your heart out about something. How
come?"

"Red Perris is overdue," she said. "But I don't want to bother you with
my troubles, Dad."

"Red Perris? Who's he?"

"Don't you remember? I told you how he rode Rickety. And now I've sent