and began an investigative tour of the stone jars on the cool
rock floor within. "What was it all about, Grant? What did yuh
do to her, anyway?"

"Oh, it wasn't anything. Hand me up a cup of that buttermilk,
will you? They've got a dog up there in camp that I'm going to
kill some of these days--if they don't beat me to it. He was up
at the store, and when I went out to get my horse, he tried to
take a leg off me. I kicked him in the nose and he came at me
again, so when I mounted I just dropped my loop over Mr. Dog.
Sleeping Turtle was there, and he said the dog belonged to Viney,
So I just led him gently to camp."

He grinned a little at the memory of his gentleness. "I told
Viney I thought he'd make a fine stew, and, they'd better use him
up right away before he spoiled. That's all there was to it.
Well, Keno did sink his head and pitch around camp a little, but
not to amount to anything. He just stuck his nose into old
Hagar's wikiup--and one sniff seemed to be about all he wanted.
He didn't hurt anything."

He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in
three rapturous swallows, and bethought him of the feminine
mystery.

"If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I
squashed?"

"Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her." Wally
straightened up with a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. "Was she