the Indians' country, where they may have at least comparative freedom. I am not afraid."
"Then what is the matter, dear? " She toyed caressingly with his hair and beard, but said nothing. They were seated on a log by the roadside, and a laughing rivulet sprawled at their feet.
"Speak, Annie; don't hesitate. I can hear your heart beat. What's the matter?"
"You remember my little farm, John? It's only ten acres, you know."
"Yes; what of it?"
"You won't be angry, John?"
"Of course not. What about it?"
"I want to deed the place over to my mother before we leave the State o' Missouri."
His manner changed instantly.
"I thought that matter was settled," he said tersely. " Can't you let me have a little peace?"
"I have held my peace as long as my conscience will let me, dear. You didn't settle anything about it. You merely put me off, you know."
"Well?"
A man can put a world of meaning into a monosyllable sometimes.
"I want you to let me deed that piece of property to my mother. If the deed were made to my father, and she should outlive him, she'd be only allowed to occupy it free from rent for one year after his death; but if it is made hers absolutely, and he should outlive her, he'll be allowed to have a home and get his living off it as long as he lives. You see, it makes a difference whether it is a cow or an ox that is gored," and she smiled grimly.
"The women are all getting their heads turned over the question of property," said Captain Ranger to himself as he watched the rivulet playing at his feet.
"Jean's been putting this into your head, Annie," he said after a painful silence.
