beef, potatoes, and flapjacks. Ye see, thar ain't anybody ben over
from Skinner's store for a week."

"All right; only hurry up!" said Uncle Dick cheerfully, settling
himself back in his chair, "I reckon to turn in as soon as I've
rastled with your hash, for I've got to turn out agin and be off at
sun-up."

They were all very quiet again,--so quiet that they could not help
noticing that the sound of Collinson's preparations for their
supper had ceased too. Uncle Dick arose softly and walked to the
kitchen door. Collinson was sitting before a small kitchen stove,
with a fork in his hand, gazing abstractedly before him. At the
sound of his guest's footsteps he started, and the noise of
preparation recommenced. Uncle Dick returned to his chair by the
fire. Leaning towards the chair of the close-shaven man, he said
in a lower voice:--

"He was off agin!"

"What?"

"Thinkin' of that wife of his."

"What about his wife?" asked Key, lowering his voice also.

The three men's heads were close together.

"When Collinson fixed up this mill he sent for his wife in the
States," said Uncle Dick, in a half whisper, "waited a year for