hand supporting his head. What a wonderful head it was with its crown of
softly curling brown hair!

"I wonder if we have done wrong by the children, Clarenden," the big
plainsman said, slowly.

Uncle Esmond shook his head as he replied:

"I can't believe it. They may not be safe with us, but we know they
would not have been safe without us."

Just then Beverly and Mat came racing up from the creek bank.

"Let us stay up awhile," Mat pleaded. "Maybe we'll be less trouble some
of these days if we hear you talk about what's coming."

"They are right, Jondo. Gail here wants to know what is coming next, and
Mat wants a share in our councils. What do you want, Beverly?"

"I want to practise shooting on horseback. I can hit a mark now standing
still. I want to do it on the run," Beverly replied.

I can see now the earnest look in Esmond Clarenden's eyes as he
listened. I've seen it in a mother's eyes more than once since then, as
she kissed her eldest-born and watched it toddle off alone on its first
day of school; or held her peace, when, breaking home ties, the son of
her heart bade her good-by to begin life for himself in the world
outside.

The last light of day was lost over the western ridge. The moon was