"He fell down, and he seemed for some days as if he'd get over it; then
he was took sudden. We put his feet into a hot pot of water and made him
drink lye."

"Lye?"

"Ash water--but we gave it him weak."

"Oh."

"But--he died."

"Well, that was sad. Does he leave a wife and family?"

"No," said Saul briefly. "But how much must I pay to have the cars take
it the rest of the way?"

Trenholme stepped into his room and lit his lamp that he might better
examine his list of rates. Saul came inside to warm himself at the
stove. The lamp in that little room was the one spot of yellow light in
the whole world that lay in sight, yet outside it was not yet dark, only
dull and bitterly cold.

Trenholme stood near the lamp, reading fine print upon a large card. The
railway was only just opened and its tariff incomplete as yet. He found
no particular provision made for the carriage of coffins. It took him
some minutes to consider under what class of freight to reckon this, but
he decided not to weigh it. Saul looked at the room, the ham and tea,
and at Trenholme, with quiet curiosity in his beady eyes. Outside, the
oxen hung their heads and dozed again.