father stared at each other. Then John gave a short laugh.
"By Sitting Bull! if you haven't got nerve, Doug! Go saddle Buster and get up to the old ranch after those three-year-olds." Then he climbed into the hay wagon, shouted at the team and was off.
Douglas' lips parted. The color returned to his face. Then he sat down weakly on the lower bar of the buck fence and burst into tears, and he was more frightened by his own tears than he had been by his father's anger. Mary Spencer knelt in the snow before him and tried to pull his head to her shoulder.
"Doug! Doug! You are a man!" she whispered. "You are a man!"
Douglas struggled heavily with the strangling sobs and after a moment sat erect and embarrassed.
"Douglas, what happened? How did you come to do it?"
"Something he said to Jude last night scared me," mumbled Doug.
Mary tightened her hold on the boy's arm. "I've been so afraid! So afraid! And no one to talk to!"
"Haven't you ever warned Jude about it?" demanded Douglas, with a sudden sensing of a debt mothers owed to daughters that Mary might not be discharging.
Mary shrank. "O, I couldn't, Doug!"
Douglas looked at her scornfully. "I don't see why that isn't your job."
Mary rose from her knees. She twisted her work-scarred hands together and looked at the boy with pathetic wistfulness.
"Don't you see, Doug, that I couldn't make her understand? She's still such a child she'd just laugh at me."
