there, too; it's different from bein' under canvas."

So saying, and turning the welfare of the men and the horses over to
his foreman, the rancher led Transley and Linder along a path through a
grove of cottonwoods, across a footbridge where from underneath came the
babble of water, to "the house," marked by a yellow light which poured
through the windows and lost itself in the shadow of the trees.

The nucleus of the house was the log cabin where Y.D. and his wife had
lived in their first married years. With the passage of time additions
had been built to every side which offered a point of contact, but the
log cabin still remained the family centre, and into it Transley and
Linder were immediately admitted. The poplar floor had long since worn
thin, save at the knots, and had been covered with edge-grained fir, but
otherwise the cabin stood as it had for twenty years, the white-washed
logs glowing in the light of two bracket lamps and the reflections from
a wood fire which burned merrily in the stove. The skins of a grizzly
bear and a timber wolf lay on the floor, and two moose heads looked down
from opposite ends of the room. On the walls hung other trophies won by
Y.D.'s rifle, along with hand-made bits of harness, lariats, and other
insignia of the ranchman's trade.

The rancher took his guests' hats, and motioned each to a seat.
"Mother," he said, directing his voice into an adjoining room, "here's
the boys."

In a moment "Mother" appeared drying her hands. In her appearance were
courage, resourcefulness, energy,--fit mate for the man who had made the
Y.D. known in every big cattle market of the country. As Linder's eye
caught her and her husband in the same glance his mind involuntarily