NOVEMBER JOE
"Herself?"
"Just that. Rone worked a line o' traps, and Sal was fixed to make her living and the boy's that way. Said a woman was liable to be as successful a trapper as a man. She's at it near three year now, and she's made good. Lives with her boy about four hours' walk nor'west of here, with not another house within five miles of her. She's got a young sister, Ruby, with her on account of the kid, as she has to be out such a lot."
"A lonely life for a woman."
"Yes," agreed November. "And now some skunk's robbing her and getting her frightened, curse him! How long ago was that paper written?"
I looked again at the letter. "There's no date."
"Nothing about who brought it?"
"No."
November rose, lighted a lantern, and without a word stepped out into the darkness. In five minutes he returned.
"She brought it herself," he announced. "Little feet—running—rustling to get home
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