"It's dettin' told. Let's wun home." Bug cuddled against
Fenneben's side and hugged his hand. "I love you lots,"
he said, looking up with eyes of innocent trust.

"Yes, let's run home. There is a storm in the air and the sun is hidden
from the valley." He stooped and kissed the little upturned face.
"Thank heaven for children!" he murmured. "Amid skulking, drunken men
and strange, lonely women, and cruel eyes of unknown beings, they lead
us loving-wise back home again."

Behind the vine-covered gate a gray-haired, fair-faced woman
watched the two as they disappeared down the road.

And the blood-red sun out on the west prairie sank swiftly
into a blue cloudbank, presaging the coming of a storm.



CHAPTER IV

THE KICKAPOO CORRAL

_And even now, as the night comes, and the shadows
gather round,
And you tell the old-time story, I can almost hear
the sound
Of the horses' hoofs in the silence, and the voices of
struggling men;
For the night is the same forever, and the time