with a dry sob.

Douglas put his long young arm about her. "I'll take care of it for you,"
he said huskily. "Judith don't know it but she's got somebody besides old
Peter ridin' herd on her now. And you know I'm some little old herder,
Mother!"

"I know you're a man!" exclaimed Mary. "The kind of a man that's mighty
scarce in Lost Chief Valley." She turned away toward the house.

Douglas picked a bridle from the fence and started after Buster.

It was nearly supper time and Doug and his father were reading in the
living-room when Judith returned. The wind had risen and fine particles
of snow sifted under the eaves and over the table. The wood stove glowed
red hot and the smell of cedar mingled with that of frying beef in the
kitchen.

Judith, without waiting to take off her mackinaw, cheeks scarlet, eyes
brilliant, stood before her father.

"Here I am, Dad."

John looked up from his book. "Have you milked yet?"

"No, sir."

"Go out and do it."

"I want to know if you're going to lick me, Dad?"